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JUST  PATTY 


JEAN  WEBSTER 


Just    Patty 


I  want  a  new  room-mate  !" 


Just  Patty 


By 

Jean  Webster 

Author  of   "When  Patty  Went  to  College,"    "Jerry 
Junior,"  "Much  Ado  About  Peter,"  etc. 


Illustrated  by 
C.  M.  Relyea 


New    York 

Grosset  &  Dunlap 

Publ  ishers 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 

Copyright,  1911,  by  THE 
CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

Published,   October,  zgu 


MADE  AT  INNISFREE 


912973 


Contents 


PACK 


I  REFORM 3 

ii  THE   ROMANTIC  HISTORY  OF   CUTHBERT   ST. 

JOHN 33 

in  THE  VIRGIL  STRIKE 65 

iv  THE  THIRD  MAN  FROM  THE  END    .     .     .     .99 

v  THE  FLANNIGAN  HONEYMOON 119 

vi  THE  SILVER  BUCKLES 149 

vn  "UNCLE  BOBBY" 181 

vin  THE  SOCIETY  OF  ASSOCIATED  SIRENS      .     .     .  199 

ix  THE  REFORMATION  OF  KID  McCoY  ....  229 

x  ONIONS  AND  ORCHIDS 247 

xi  THE  LEMON  PIE  AND  THE  MONKEY-WRENCH  273 

xn  THE  GYPSY  TRAIL ,«    .     .  309 


I 

Reform 


Just  Patty 


Reform 

T  'S  a  shame !  "  said  Priscilla. 

"  It 's    an    outrage !  "    said 
Conny. 

"  It  's  an  insult !  "  said  Patty. 
"  To  separate  us  now  after  we  Ve  been 
together  three  years — " 

"  And  it  is  n't  as  though  we  were  awfully 
bad  last  yean  Lots  of  girls  had  more  de- 
merits." 

"  Only  our  badness  was  sort  of  conspicu- 
ous," Patty  admitted. 

"  But  we  were  'very  good  the  last  three 
weeks,"  reminded  Conny. 

"  And  you  should  see  my  new  room- 
mate !  "  wailed  Priscilla. 

"  She  can't  be  any  worse  than  Irene  Mc- 
Cullough." 

"She   is!  —  Her   father's   a   missionary, 
and  she  was  brought  up  in  China.     Her  name 
3 


just   Patty 

is  Keren-happuch  Hcrsey,  after  Job's  young- 
est daughter.  And  she  does  n't  think  it 's 
funny!" 

"  Irene,"  said  Conny  gloomily,  "  gained 
twenty  pounds  through  the  summer.  She 
weighs — " 

"  But  you  should  see  mine  1  "  cried  Patty, 
in  exasperation.  "  Her  name  is  Mae  Mer- 
telle  Van  Arsdale." 

"  Keren  studies  every  second;  and  expects 
me  to  walk  on  tiptoe  so  she  can  concen- 
trate." 

"You  should  hear,  Mae  Mertelle  talkl 
She  said  her  father  was  a  financier,  and 
wanted  to  know  what  mine  was.  I  told  her 
he  was  a  reform  judge,  and  that  he  spent  his 
time  putting  financiers  in  prison.  She  says 
I  'm  an  impertinent  child,"  Patty  grinned 
feebly. 

"  How  old  is  she?" 

"  She  's  nineteen,  and  has  been  proposed 
to  twice." 

"  Mercy!  Whatever  made  her  choose  St. 
Ursula's?" 

"  Her  father  and  mother  ran  away  and 
4 


Reform 

got  married  when  they  were  nineteen,  and 
they  're  afraid  she  inherited  the  tendency. 
So  they  picked  out  a  good,  strict,  church 
school.  Mae  does  n't  know  how  she  's  ever 
going  to  fix  her  hair  without  a  maid.  She  's 
awfully  superstitious  about  moonstones.  She 
never  wears  anything  but  silk  stockings  and 
she  can't  stand  hash.  I  '11  have  to  teach  her 
how  to  make  a  bed.  She  always  crosses  on 
the  White  Star  Line." 

Patty  scattered  these  details  at  random. 
The  others  listened  sympathetically,  and 
added  a  few  of  their  own  troubles. 

"  Irene  weighs  a  hundred  and  fifty-nine 
pounds  and  six  ounces,  not  counting  her 
clothes,"  said  Conny.  "  She  brought  two 
trunks  loaded  with  candy.  She  has  it  hid- 
den all  over  the  room.  The  last  sound  I  hear 
at  night,  is  Irene  crunching  chocolates  —  and 
the  first  sound  in  the  morning.  She  never 
says  anything;  she  simply  chews.  It's  like 
rooming  with  a  cow.  And  I  have  a  sweet 
collection  of  neighbors !  Kid  McCoy 's 
across  the  hall,  and  she  makes  more  noise 
than  half-a-dozen  cowboys.  There  's  a  new 
5 


Just    Patty 

French  girl  next  door  —  you  know,  the  pretty 
little  one  with  the  two  black  braids." 

"  She  looks  rather  desirable,"  said  Patty. 

"  She  might  be  if  she  could  talk,  but  she 
only  knows  about  fifty  words.  Harriet  Glad- 
den 's  rooming  with  her,  as  limp  and  mourn- 
ful as  an  oyster,  and  Evalina  Smith  's  at  the 
end  of  the  corridor.  You  know  what  a  per- 
fect idiot  Evalina  is." 

"  Oh,  it 's  beastly!  "  they  agreed. 

"  Lordy  's  to  blame,"  said  Conny.  "  The 
Dowager  never  would  have  separated  us  if 
she  had  n't  interfered." 

"And    I've    got    her!"    wailed    Patty. 

'  You  two  have  Mam'selle  and  Waddams, 

and  they're  nice,  sweet,  unsuspicious  lambs; 

but  the  girls  in  the  East  Wing  simply  can't 

sneeze  but  Lordy — " 

"Sh!"      Conny     warned.     "Here     she 


comes." 


The  Latin  teacher,  in  passing,  paused  on 
the  threshold.  Conny  disentangled  herself 
from  the  mixture  of  clothes  and  books  and 
sofa  cushions  that  littered  the  bed,  and  po- 
litely rose  to  her  feet.  Patty  slid  down  from 
6 


Reform 

the  white  iron  foot-rail,  and  Priscilla  de- 
scended from  the  top  of  the  trunk. 

"  Ladies  don't  perch  about  on  the  furni- 
ture." 

"  No,  Miss  Lord,"  they  murmured  in  uni- 
son, gazing  back  from  three  pairs  of  wide, 
uplifted  eyes.  They  knew,  from  gleeful  past 
experience,  that  nothing  so  annoyed  her  as 
smiling  acquiescence. 

Miss  Lord's  eyes  critically  studied  the 
room.  Patty  was  still  in  traveling  dress. 

"  Put  on  your  uniform,  Patty,  and  finish 
unpacking.  The  trunks  go  down  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lord." 

"  Priscilla  and  Constance,  why  are  n't  you 
out  of  doors  with  the  other  girls,  enjoying 
this  beautiful  autumn  weather?" 

"  But  we  have  n't  seen  Patty  for  such  a 
long  time,  and  now  that  we  are  separated  — " 
commenced  Conny,  with  a  pathetic  droop  of 
her  mouth. 

"  I  trust  that  your  lessons  will  benefit  by  the 
change.  You,  Patty  and  Priscilla,  are  going 
to  college,  and  should  realize  the  necessity 


Just   Patty 

of  being  prepared.  Upon  the  thorough 
foundation  that  you  lay  here  depends  your 
success  for  the  next  four  years  —  for  your 
whole  lives,  one  might  say.  Patty  is  weak 
in  mathematics  and  Priscilla  in  Latin.  Con- 
stance could  improve  her  French.  Let  us 
see  what  you  can  do  when  you  really  try." 

She  divided  a  curt  nod  between  the  three 
and  withdrew. 

"  We  are  happy  in  our  work  and  we  dearly 
love  our  teachers,"  chanted  Patty,  with  iron- 
ical emphasis,  as  she  rummaged-  out  a  blue 
skirt  and  middy  blouse  with  "  St.  U."  in  gold 
upon  the  sleeve. 

While  she  was  dressing,  Priscilla  and 
Conny  set  about  transferring  the  contents  of 
her  trunk  to  her  bureau,  in  whatever  order 
the  articles  presented  themselves  —  but  with 
a  carefully  folded  top  layer.  The  over- 
worked young  teacher,  who  performed  the 
ungrateful  task  of  inspecting  sixty-four  bu- 
reaus and  sixty-four  closets  every  Saturday 
morning,  was  happily  of  an  unsuspicious  na- 
ture. She  did  not  penetrate  below  the  crust 
8 


Reform 

"  Lordy  need  n't  make  such  a  fuss  over  my 
standing,"  said  Priscilla,  frowning  over  an 
armful  of  clothes.  "  I  passed  everything  ex- 
cept Latin." 

"  Take  care,  Pris !  You  're  walking  on 
my  new  dancing  dress,"  cried  Patty,  as  her 
head  emerged  from  the  neck  of  the  blouse. 

Priscilla  automatically  stepped  off  a  mass 
of  blue  chiffon,  and  resumed  her  plaint. 

"  If  they  think  sticking  me  in  with  Job's 
youngest  daughter  is  going  to  improve  my 
prose  composition  — " 

"  I  simply  can't  study  till  they  take  Irene 
McCullough  out  of  my  room,"  Conny  echoed. 
"  She  's  just  like  a  lump  of  sticky  dough." 

'  Wait  till  you  get  acquainted  with  Mae 
Mertelle !  "  Patty  sat  on  the  floor  in  the 
midst  of  the  chaos,  and  gazed  up  at  the  other 
two  with  wide,  solemn  eyes.  "  She  brought 
five  evening  gowns  cut  low,  and  all  her  shoes 
have  French  heels.  And  she  laces  —  my 
dears!  She  just  holds  in  her  breath  and 
pulls.  But  that  is  n't  the  worst."  She  low- 
ered her  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper.. 
9 


Just    Patty 

"  She  's  got  some  red  stuff  in  a  bottle.  She 
says  it  's  for  her  finger  nails,  but  I  saw  her 
putting  it  on  her  face." 

"  Oh!  —  not  really?  "  in  a  horrified  whis- 
per from  Conny  and  Priscilla. 

Patty  shut  her  lips  and  nodded. 

"  Is  n't  it  dreadful?" 

"  Awful!  "  Conny  shuddered. 

"I  say,  let's  mutiny!"  cried  Priscilla. 
"  Let 's  make  the  Dowager  give  us  back  our 
old  rooms  in  Paradise  Alley." 

"  But  how?"  inquired  Patty,  two  parallel 
wrinkles  appearing  on  her  forehead. 

1  Tell  her  that  unless  she  does,  we  won't 
stay." 

"That  would  be  sensible!  "  Patty  jeered. 
"  She  'd  ring  the  bell  and  order  Martin  to 
hitch  up  the  hearse  and  drive  us  to  the  sta- 
tion for  the  six-thirty  train.  I  should  think 
you  'd  know  by  this  time  that  you  can't  bluff 
the  Dowager." 

"  There 's  no  use  threatening,"  Conny 
agreed.  '  We  must  appeal  to  her  feeling  of 
—  of—" 

"  Affection,"  said  Patty. 
10 


Reform 

Conny  stretched  out  a  hand  and  brought 
her  up  standing. 

"  Come  on,  Patty,  you  're  good  at  talking. 
We  '11  go  down  now  while  our  courage  is  up. 
—  Are  your  hands  clean?" 

The  three  staunchly  approached  the  door 
of  Mrs.  Trent's  private  study. 

"  I  '11  use  diplomacy,"  Patty  whispered,  as 
she  turned  the  knob  in  response  to  the  sum- 
mons from  within.  "  You  people  nod  your 
heads  at  everything  I  say." 

Patty  did  use  all  the  diplomacy  at  her  com- 
mand. Having  dwelt  touchingly  upon  their 
long  friendship,  and  their  sorrow  at  being 
separated,  she  passed  lightly  to  the  matter  of 
their  new  room-mates. 

"  They  are  doubtless  very  nice  girls,"  she 
ended  politely,  "  only,  you  see,  Mrs.  Trent, 
they  don't  match  us;  and  it  is  extremely  hard 
to  concentrate  one's  mind  upon  lessons,  un- 
less one  has  a  congenial  room-mate." 

Patty's  steady,  serious  gaze  suggested  that 
lessons  were   the  end  of  her  existence.     A 
brief  smile  flitted  over  the  Dowager's  face, 
but  the  next  instant  she  was  grave  again. 
II 


Just   Patty 

"  It  is  very  necessary  that  we  study  this 
year,"  Patty  added.  "  Priscilla  and  I  are 
going  to  college,  and  we  realize  the  necessity 
of  being  prepared.  Upon  the  thorough 
foundation  that  we  lay  here,  depends  our  suc- 
cess for  the  next  four  years  —  for  our  whole 
lives  you  might  say." 

Conny  jogged  her  elbow  warningly.  It 
was  too  patently  a  crib  from  Miss  Lord. 

"  And  besides,"  Patty  added  hastily,  "  all 
my  things  are  blue,  and  Mae  has  a  purple 
screen  and  a  yellow  sofa  cushion." 

'  That  is  awkward,"  the  Dowager  admit- 
ted. 

"  We  are  used  to  living  in  Paradise  Al  — 
I  mean,  the  West  Wing  —  and  we  shall  — 
er  —  miss  the  sunsets." 

The  Dowager  allowed  an  anxious  silence 
to  follow,  while  she  thoughtfully  tapped  the 
desk  with  her  lorgnettes.  The  three  studied 
her  face  with  speculative  eyes.  It  was  a 
mask  they  could  not  penetrate. 

'  The  present  arrangement  is  more  or  less 
temporary,"  she  commenced  in  equable  tones- 

12 


Reform 

41 1  may  find  it  expedient  to  make  some 
changes,  and  I  may  not.  We  have  an  un- 
usual number  of  new  girls  this  year;  and  in- 
stead of  putting  them  together,  it  has  seemed 
wisest  to  mix  them  with  the  old  girls.  You 
three  have  been  with  us  a  long  time.  You 
know  the  traditions  of  the  school.  There- 
fore— "  The  Dowager  smiled,  a  smile  par- 
tially tinged  with  amusement  — "  I  am  send- 
ing you  as  missionaries  among  the  new- 
comers. I  wish  you  to  make  your  influence 
felt." 

Patty  straightened  her  back  and  stared. 

"Our  influence?" 

"  Your  new  room-mate,"  Mrs.  Trent  con- 
tinued imperturbably,  "  is  too  grown-up  for, 
her  years.  She  has  lived  in  fashionable  ho- 
tels, and  under  such  conditions,  it  is  inevita- 
ble that  a  girl  should  become  somewhat  af- 
fected. See  if  you  cannot  arouse  in  Mae  an 
interest  in  girlish  sports. 

"  And  you,  Constance,  are  rooming  with 
Irene  McCullough.  She  is,  as  you  know,  an 
only  child,  and  I  fear  has  been  a  trifle  spoiled. 

13 


Just   Patty 

It  would  please  me  if  you  could  waken  her  to 
a  higher  regard  for  the  spiritual  side  of  life, 
and  less  care  for  material  things." 

"I  —  I  '11  try,"  Conny  stammered,  dazed 
at  so  suddenly  finding  herself  cast  in  the  un- 
familiar role  of  moral  reformer. 

"  And  you  have  next  to  you  the  little 
French  girl,  Aurelie  Deraismes.  I  should  be 
pleased,  Constance,  if  you  would  assume  an 
oversight  of  her  school  career.  She  can  help 
you  to  a  more  idiomatic  knowledge  of  French 

—  and  you  can  do  the  same  for  her  in  Eng- 
lish. 

"  You,  Priscilla,  are  rooming  with  — " 
She  adjusted  her  lorgnettes  and  consulted  a 
large  chart. — "  Ah,  yes,  Keren  Hersey,  a 
very  unusual  girl.  You  two  will  find  many 
subjects  of  mutual  interest.  The  daughter 
of  a  naval  officer  should  have  much  in  com- 
mon with  the  daughter  of  a  missionary. 
Keren  bids  fair  to  become  an  earnest  student 

—  almost,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible,  too 
earnest.     She  has  never  had  any  girl  compan- 
ions, and  knows  nothing  of  the  give  and  take 
of  school  life.     She  can  teach  you,  Priscilla, 

14 


Reform 

to  be  more  studious,  and  you  can  teach  her 
to  be  more,  shall  I  say,  flexible?  " 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Trent,"  Priscilla  murmured. 

"  And  so,"  the  Dowager  finished,  "  I  am 
sending  you  out  in  my  place,  as  moral  reform- 
ers. I  want  the  older  girls  to  set  an  example 
to  the  newcomers.  I  wish  to  have  the  real 
government  of  the  school  a  strong,  healthy 
Public  Opinion.  You  three  exert  a  great  deal 
of  influence.  See  what  you  can  do  in  the  di- 
rections I  have  indicated  —  and  in  others  that 
may  occur  to  you  as  you  mix  with  your  com- 
panions. I  have  watched  you  carefully  for 
three  years,  and  in  your  fundamental  good 
sense,  I  have  the  greatest  confidence." 

She  nodded  dismissal,  and  the  three  found 
themselves  in  the  hall  again.  They  looked  at 
one  another  for  a  moment  of  blank  silence. 

"  Moral  reformers !  "    Conny  gasped. 

"  I  see  through  the  Dowager,"  said  Patty. 
"  She  thinks  she  's  found  a  new  method  of 
managing  us." 

"  But  I  don't  see  that  we  're  getting  back 
to  Paradise  Alley,"  Priscilla  complained. 

Patty's  eyes  suddenly  brightened.  She 
15 


Just    Patty 

seized  them  each  by  an  elbow  and  shoved 
them  into  the  empty  schoolroom. 

"We'll  do  it!" 

"  Do  what?  "  asked  Conny. 

"  Pitch  right  in  and  reform  the  school. 
If  we  just  keep  at  it  —  steady  —  you  '11  see ! 
We  '11  be  back  in  Paradise  Alley  at  the  end 
of  two  weeks." 

"Urn,"  said  Priscilla,  thoughtfully.  "I 
believe  we  might." 

'  We  '11  commence  with  Irene,"  said 
Conny,  her  mind  eagerly  jumping  to  details, 
41  and  make  her  lose  that  twenty  pounds. 
That 's  what  the  Dowager  meant  when  she 
said  she  wanted  her  less  material." 

"  We  '11  have  her  thin  in  no  time,"  Patty 
nodded  energetically.  "  And  we  '11  give  Mae 
Mertelle  a  dose  of  bubbling  girlishness." 

"  And  Keren,"  interposed  Priscilla,  "  we  '11 
teach  her  to  become  frivolous  and  neglect  her 
lessons." 

"  But  we  won't  just  confine  ourselves  to 
those  three,"  said  Conny.  "  The  Dowager 
said  to  make  our  influence  felt  over  the  whole 
school." 

16 


Reform 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  Patty  agreed,  rising  to  en- 
thusiasm as  she  called  the  school  roll.  "  Kid 
McCoy  uses  too  much  slang.  We  '11  teach 
her  manners.  Rosalie  does  n't  like  to  study. 
We  '11  pour  her  full  of  algebra  and  Latin. 
Harriet  Gladden  's  a  jelly  fish,  Mary  Das- 
kam  's  an  awful  little  liar,  Evalina  Smith  's 
a  silly  goose,  Nancy  Lee  's  a  telltale  — " 

"  When  you  stop  to  think  about  it,  there  's 
something  the  matter  with  everybody,"  said 
Conny. 

"  Except  us,"  amended  Priscilla. 

"  Y  —  yes,"  Patty  agreed  in  thoughtful  re- 
trospection, "  I  can't  think  of  a  thing  the  mat- 
ter with  us  —  I  don't  wonder  they  chose  us 
to  head  the  reform  1  " 

Conny  slid  to  her  feet,  a  bundle  of  en- 
ergy. 

"  Come  on !  We  '11  join  our  little  play- 
mates and  begin  the  good  work  —  Hooray 
for  the  great  Reform  Party!  " 

They  scrambled  out  of  the  open  window, 
in  a  fashion  foreign  to  the  dictates  of  Thurs- 
day evening  manner  class.  Crowds  of  girls 
in  blue  middy  blouses  were  gathered  in 
17 


Just    Patty 

groups  about  the  recreation  ground.  The 
three  paused  to  reconnoiter. 

"  There  's  Irene,  still  chewing."  Conny 
nodded  toward  a  comfortable  bench  set  in  the 
shade  by  the  tennis  courts. 

"  Let 's  have  a  circus,"  Patty  proposed. 
"  We  '11  make  Irene  and  Mae  Mertelle  roll 
hoops  around  the  oval.  That  will  kill  'em 
both  with  one  stone  —  Irene  will  get  thin, 
and  Mae  Mertelle  girlish." 

Hoop-rolling  was  a  speciality  of  St.  Ur- 
sula's. The  gymnasium  instructor  believed 
in  teaching  girls  to  run.  Eleven  times  around 
the  oval  constituted  a  mile,  and  a  mile  of 
hoop-rolling  freed  one  for  the  day  from 
dumb-bells  and  Indian  clubs.  The  three 
dived  into  the  cellar,  and  returned  with  hoops 
as  tall  as  themselves.  Patty  assumed  com- 
mand of  the  campaign  and  issued  her  orders. 

"  Conny,  you  take  a  walk  with  Keren  and 
shock  her  as  much  as  possible;  we  must 
break  her  of  being  precise.  And  Pris,  you 
take  charge  of  Mae  Mertelle.  Don't  let  her 
put  on  any  grown-up  airs.  If  she  tells  you 
she  's  been  proposed  to  twice,  tell  her  you  Ve 
18 


- 


Reform 

been  proposed  to  so  many  times  that  you  Ve 
lost  count.  Keep  her  snubbed  all  the  time. 
I  '11  be  elephant  trainer  and  start  Irene  run- 
ning; she  '11  be  a  graceful  gazelle  by  the  time 
I  finish." 

They  parted  on  their  several  missions.  St. 
Ursula's  peace  had  ended.  She  was  in  the 
throes  of  reform. 

On  Friday  evening  two  weeks  later,  an  un- 
official faculty  meeting  was  convened  in  the 
Dowager's  study.  "  Lights-out  "  had  rung 
five  minutes  before,  and  three  harried  teach- 
ers, relieved  of  duty  for  nine  blessed  hours 
while  their  little  charges  slept,  were  discussing 
their  troubles  with  their  chief. 

"  But  just  what  have  they  done?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Trent,  in  tones  of  judicial  calm,  as  she 
vainly  tried  to  stop  the  flood  of  interjec- 
tions. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  put  one's  finger  on  the 
precise  facts,"  Miss  Wadsworth  quavered. 
"  They  have  not  broken  any  rules  so  far  as 
I  can  discover,  but  they  have  —  er  —  created 
an  atmosphere — " 

19 


Just   Patty 

"  Every  girl  in  my  corridor,"  said  Miss 
Lord,  with  compressed  lips,  "  has  come  to 
me  separately,  and  begged  to  have  Patty 
moved  back  to  the  West  Wing  with  Con- 
stance and  Priscilla." 

"  Patty!  Mon  Dieuf"  Mademoiselle 
rolled  a  pair  of  speaking  eyes  to  heaven. 
"The  things  that  child  thinks  of  I  She  is 
one  little  imp." 

"  You  remember,"  the  Dowager  addressed 
Miss  Lord,  "  I  said  when  you  suggested  sep- 
arating them,  that  it  was  a  very  doubtful 
experiment.  Together,  they  exhaust  their 
effervescence  on  each  other;  separated — " 

u  They  exhaust  the  whole  school!"  cried 
Miss  Wadsworth,  on  the  verge  of  tears. 
"  Of  course  they  don't  mean  it,  but  their  un- 
fortunate dispositions  — " 

"Don't  mean  it!"  Miss  Lord's  eyes 
snapped.  "  Their  heads  are  together  plan- 
ning fresh  escapades  every  moment  they  are 
not  in  class." 

"But  what  have  they  done?"  persisted 
Mrs.  Trent. 

20 


Reform 

Miss  Wadsworth  hesitated  a  moment  in 
an  endeavor  to  choose  examples  from  the 
wealth  of  material  that  presented  itself. 

"  I  found  Priscilla  deliberately  stirring  up 
the  contents  of  Keren's  bureau  drawers  with 
a  shinny  stick,  and  when  I  asked  what  she 
was  doing,  she  replied  without  the  least  em- 
barrassment, that  she  was  trying  to  teach 
Keren  to  be  less  exact;  that  Mrs.  Trent  had 
asked  her  to  do  it." 

"  Um,"  mused  the  Dowager,  "  that  was 
not  my  precise  request,  but  no  matter." 

"  But  the  thing  that  has  really  troubled 
me  the  most,"  Miss  Wadsworth  spoke  diffi- 
dently, "  is  a  matter  almost  of  blasphemy. 
Keren  has  a  very  religious  turn  of  mind,  but 
an  unfortunate  habit  of  saying  her  prayers 
out  loud.  One  night,  after  a  peculiarly  try- 
ing day,  she  prayed  that  Priscilla  might  be 
forgiven  for  being  so  aggravating.  Where- 
upon Priscilla  knelt  before  her  bed,  and 
prayed  that  Keren  might  become  less  self- 
righteous  and  stubborn,  and  more  ready  to 
join  in  the  sports  of  her  playmates  with  gen- 
21 


Just   Patty 

erosity  and  openness  of  spirit.  They  carried 
on  —  well,  really,  one  might  almost  call  it  a 
praying  match." 

"  Shocking!"  cried  Miss  Lord. 

"  And  little  Aurelie  Deraismes  —  they 
have  been  drilling  the  child  in  —  er  —  idio- 
matic English.  The  phrase  that  I  overheard 
her  repeating,  seemed  scarcely  the  expression 
that  a  lady  would  use." 

"What  was  it?"  inquired  the  Dowager, 
with  a  slightly  expectant  note. 

"  I  '11  be  gum-swizzled!  " 

Miss  Wadsworth  colored  a  deep  pink.  It 
was  foreign  to  her  nature  even  to  repeat  so 
doubtful  an  expression. 

The  Dowager's  lips  twitched.  It  was  a 
fact,  deplored  by  her  assistants,  that  her  sense 
of  humor  frequently  ran  away  with  her  sense 
of  justice.  A  very  naughty  little  girl,  if  she 
managed  to  be  funny,  might  hope  to  escape; 
whereas  an  equally  naughty  little  girl,  who 
was  not  funny,  paid  the  full  penalty  of  her 
crime.  Fortunately,  however,  the  school  at 
large,  had  not  discovered  this  vulnerable  spot 
in  the  Dowager's  armor. 

22 


Reform 

"  Their  influence,"  it  was  Miss  Lord  who 
Spoke,  "  is  demoralizing  the  school.  Mae 
iVan  Arsdale  says  that  she  will  go  home  if 
she  has  to  room  any  longer  with  Patty 
Wyatt.  I  do  not  know  what  the  trouble  is, 
but—  " 

"  I  know  it !  "  said  Mademoiselle.  "  The 
whole  school  laughs.  It  is  touching  the  ques- 
tion of  a  sweetch" 

"Of  what?"  The  Dowager  cocked  her 
head.  Mademoiselle's  English  was  at  times 
difficult.  She  mixed  her  languages  impar- 
tially. 

"  A  sweetch  —  some  hair  —  to  make 
pompadour.  Last  week  when  they  have  tab- 
leaux, Patty  has  borrowed  it  and  has  dyed 
it  with  blueing  to  make  a  beard  for  Blue- 
beard. But  being  yellow  to  start,  it  has  be- 
come green,  and  the  color  will  not  wash  out. 
The  sweetch  is  ruin  —  entirely  ruin  —  and 
Patty  is  desolate.  She  has  apologize.  She 
thought  it  would  wash,  but  since  it  will  not 
wash,  she  has  suggest  to  Mae  that  she  color 
her  own  hair  to  match  the  sweetch,  and  Mae 
lose  her  temper  and  call  names.  Then  Patty 
23 


Just    Patty 

has  pretend  to  cry,  and  she  put  the  green  hair 
on  Mae's  bed  with  a  wreath  of  flowers 
around,  and  she  hang  a  stocking  on  the  door 
for  crape,  and  invite  the  girls  to  come  to  the 
funeral,  and  everybody  laugh  at  Mae." 

"  It 's  just  as  well,"  said  the  Dowager,  un- 
moved. "  I  do  not  wish  to  favor  the  wear- 
ing of  false  hair." 

"  It 's  the  principle  of  the  thing,"  said  Miss 
Lord. 

"  And  that  poor  Irene  McCullough,"  Ma- 
demoiselle continued  the  tale,  "  she  dissolves 
herself  in  tears.  Those  three  insist  that  she 
make  herself  thin,  and  she  has  no  wish  to  be- 
come thin." 

;'  They  take  away  her  butter-ball,"  corrob- 
orated Miss  Wadsworth,  "  before  she  comes 
to  the  table;  they  make  her  go  without  des- 
sert, and  they  do  not  allow  her  to  eat  sugar 
on  her  oatmeal.  They  keep  her  exercising 
every  moment,  and  when  she  complains  to 
me,  they  punish  her." 

"  I  should  think,"  the  Dowager  spoke  with 
a  touch  of  sarcasm,   "that  Irene  were  big 
enough  to  take  care  of  herself." 
24 


Reform 

"  She  has  three  against  her,"  reminded 
Miss  Lord. 

"  I  called  Patty  to  my  room,"  said  Miss 
Wadsworth,  u  and  demanded  an  explanation. 
She  told  me  that  Mrs.  Trent  thought  that 
Irene  was  too  fat,  and  wished  them  to  reduce 
her  twenty  pounds!  Patty  said  that  it  was 
hard  work,  they  were  getting  thin  them- 
selves, but  they  realized  that  they  were  seniors 
and  must  exert  an  influence  over  the  school. 
I  really  think  she  was  sincere.  She  talked 
very  sweetly  about  moral  responsibility,  and 
the  necessity  of  the  older  girls  setting  an  ex- 
ample." 

"  It  is  her  impudence,"  said  Miss  Lord, 
"  that  is  so  exasperating/* 

"  That 's  —  just  Patty '  "  the  Dowager 
laughed.  "  I  must  confess  that  I  find  all 
three  of  them  amusing.  It 's  good,  healthy 
mischief  and  I  wish  there  were  more  of  it, 
They  don't  bribe  the  maids  to  mail  letters, 
or  smuggle  in  candy,  or  flirt  with  the  soda- 
water  clerk.  They  at  least  can  be  trusted." 

"  Trusted!  "  gasped  Miss  Lord. 

;<  To  break  every  minor  rule  with  cheerful 


Just   Patty 


unconcern,"  nodded  the  Dowager,  "  but  never 
to  do  the  slightest  thing  dishonorable.  They 
have  kind  hearts  and  the  girls  all  love 
them—  " 

A  knock  sounded  on  the  door  with  startling 
suddenness,  and  before  anyone  could  reply, 
the  door  burst  open  and  Keren-happuch  ap- 
peared on  the  threshold.  She  was  clutch- 
ing with  one  hand  the  folds  of  a  brilliant 
Japanese  kimono,  the  other  she  reserved  for 
gestures.  The  kimono  was  sprinkled  with 
fire-eating  dragons  as  large  as  cats;  and  to 
the  astonished  spectators,  Keren's  flushed  face 
and  disheveled  hair  seemed  to  carry  out  the 
decorative  scheme.  The  Dowager's  private 
study  was  a  sacred  spot,  reserved  for  inter- 
views of  formality;  never  had  a  pupil  pre- 
sented herself  in  such  unceremonious  garb. 

"  Keren !  "  cried  Miss  Wadsworth, 
"  What  has  happened?  " 

"  I  want  a  new  room-mate !  I  can't  stand 
Priscilla  any  longer.  She  's  been  having  a 
birthday  party  in  my  room  — " 

"A  birthday  party?"  Mrs.  Tr*nt  turner/ 
questioningly  to  Miss  Wadsworth. 
26 


Reform 

She  nodded  unhappily. 

"  Yesterday  was  Priscilla's  birthday,  and 
she  received  a  box  from  her  aunt.  This 
being  Friday  night,  I  gave  her  permission  — " 

"  Certainly."  The  Dowager  turned  to  the 
tragic  figure  in  the  center  of  the  floor.  "  It 
is  Priscilla's  room  as  much  as  yours  and — " 

Keren  plunged  into  a  sea  of  words.  The 
four  leaned  forward  in  a  strained  endeavor 
to  pluck  some  sense  from  the  torrent. 

"  They  used  my  bed  for  a  table  because 
it  was  n't  against  the  wall,  and  Patty  tipped 
a  pot  of  chocolate  over  in  the  middle  of  it. 
She  said  it  was  an  accident  —  but  she  did  it 
on  purpose  —  I  know  she  did !  And  because 
I  objected,  Priscilla  said  it  was  n't  polite  to 
notice  when  a  guest  spilled  anything,  and  she 
tipped  a  glass  of  currant  jelly  on  my  pillow, 
to  make  Patty  feel  comfortable.  That  was 
the  polite  thing  for  a  hostess  to  do,  she  said; 
they  learned  it  last  year  in  manner  class. 
And  the  chocolate  soaked  right  through,  and 
Conny  Wilder  said  it  was  fortunate  I  was 
thin,  because  I  could  sleep  in  a  curve  around 
it;  if  it  had  happened  to  Irene  McCullough, 
27 


Just    Patty 

she  would  have  had  to  sleep  in  it,  because 
she  's  so  big  she  takes  up  the  whole  bed.  And 
Priscilla  said  I  could  be  thankful  to-mor- 
row 's  Saturday  when  we  get  clean  sheets ; 
it  might  have  happened  so  that  I  would  have 
had  to  sleep  in  that  puddle  of  chocolate  a 
whole  week.  And  then  the  "  Lights-out " 
rang,  and  they  left  me  to  clean  up,  and  the 
housekeeper  's  gone  to  bed,  and  I  can't  get 
any  fresh  bed  clothes,  and  I  won't  sleep  that 
way !  I  'm  not  used  to  sleeping  in  chocolaty 
sheets.  I  don't  like  America  and  I  hate 
girls." 

Tears  were  dripping  from  Keren's  cheeks 
onto  the  fire-breathing  dragons  below.  The 
Dowager,  without  comment,  rose  and  rang 
the  bell. 

"  Katie,"  she  said,  as  the  maid  on  duty  ap- 
peared at  the  door,  "  some  fresh  sheets  for 
Miss  Keren,  please,  and  remake  her  bed. 
That  will  do  for  to-night,  Keren.  Get  to 
sleep  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  don't  talk. 
You  must  n't  disturb  the  other  girls.  We 
can  see  about  changing  room-mates  to-mor- 


row." 


28 


•3 

I 
I 

8- 

to 


JT 

H 


Reform 

Katie  and  the  outraged  dragons  withdrew. 

A  silence  followed,  while  Miss  Wadsworth 
and  Mademoiselle  exchanged  glances  of  de- 
spair, and  Miss  Lord  buckled  on  her  war 
armor. 

"  You  see!  "  she  said,  with  a  suggestion  of 
triumph,  "  when  they  get  to  the  point  of  per- 
secuting a  poor  little  — " 

"  In  my  experience  of  school  life,"  said 
Mrs.  Trent  judicially,  "  it  is  a  girl's  own 
fault  when  she  is  persecuted.  Their  methods 
are  crude,  but  to  the  point.  Keren  is  a  hope- 
less little  prig — " 

"  But  at  least  you  can't  allow  her  to  suf- 
fer — " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  do  what  I  can  toward 
peace.  To-morrow  morning,  Keren  can 
move  in  with  Irene  McCullough,  and  Patty 
and  Conny  and  Priscilla  go  back  to  their  old 
rooms  in  the  West  Wing.  You,  Ma- 
demoiselle, are  somewhat  inured — " 

"  I  do  not  mind  them  together.  They  are 
just  —  what  you  say  ?  —  exhilarating.  It 
is  when  they  are  spread  out  that  it  is  diffi- 
cult." 

29 


Just    Patty 

"You  mean,"  Miss  Lord  stared — "that 
you  are  going  to  reward  their  disgraceful  con- 
'duct?  It  is  exactly  what  they  have  been 
working  for." 

"  You  must  acknowledge,"  smiled  the 
Dowager,  "  that  they  have  worked  hard. 
Perseverance  deserves  success." 

The  next  morning,  Patty  and  Conny  and 
Priscilla,  their  arms  running  over  with 
dresses  and  hats  and  sofa  cushions,  gaily  two- 
stepped  down  the  length  of  "  Paradise  Al- 
ley "  while  a  relieved  school  assisted  at  the 
flitting.  As  they  caught  sight  of  Miss  Lord 
hovering  in  the  offing,  they  broke  into  the 
chorus  of  a  popular  school  song: 

"  We  like  to  go  to  chapel 
And  listen  to  the  preachers, 
We  are  happy  in  our  work, 
And  we  dearly  love  our  teachers. 
Daughters  of  Saint  Ur-su-la!  " 


II 

The  Romantic   History  of 
Cuthbert  St.  John 


II 

The  Romantic  History 
of  Cuthbert  St.  John 

HE  DOWAGER  "  had  a  very 
sensible  theory  that  boarding- 
school  girls  should  be  kept  lit- 
tle girls,  until  their  school  life 
was  over,  and  they  stepped  out,  fresh  and 
eager  and  spontaneous,  to  greet  the  grown-up 
world.  Saint  Ursula's  was  a  cloister,  in  fact, 
as  in  name.  The  masculine  half  of  the  hu- 
man species  was  not  supposed  to  count. 

Sometimes  a  new  girl  was  inclined  to  turn 
up  her  nose  at  the  youthful  pastimes  that  con- 
tented her  companions.  But  in  the  end  she 
would  be  drawn  irresistibly  into  the  current. 
She  would  learn  to  jump  rope  and  roll  hoops; 
to  participate  in  paper  chases  'cross  country; 
to  skate  and  coast  and  play  hockey  on  winter 

33 


Just   Patty 


afternoons,  to  enjoy  molasses-candy  pulls  and 
popcorn  around  the  big  open  fire  on  Saturday 
nights,  or  impromptu  masquerades,  when  the 
school  raided  the  trunks  in  the  attic  for  cos- 
tumes. After  a  few  weeks'  time,  the  most 
spoiled  little  worldling  lost  her  consciousness 
of  calls  outside  of  "  bounds,"  and  surren- 
dered to  the  spirit  of  the  youthful  sisterhood. 
But  girls  in  their  teens  answer  readily  to 
the  call  of  ROMANCE.  And  occasionally, 
in  the  twilight  hour  between  afternoon  study 
and  the  dressing  bell,  as  they  gathered  in  the 
window-seat  with  faces  to  the  western  sky, 
the  talk  would  turn  to  the  future  —  particu- 
larly when  Rosalie  Patton  was  of  the  group. 
Pretty,  dainty,  inconsequential  little  Rosalie 
was  preeminently  fashioned  for  romance;  it 
clung  to  her  golden  hair  and  looked  from  her 
eyes.  She  might  be  extremely  hazy  as  to  the 
difference  between  participles  and  supines,  she 
might  hesitate  on  her  definition  of  a  parallel- 
epiped, but  when  the  subject  under  discussion 
was  one  of  sentiment,  she  spoke  with  convic- 
tion. For  hers  was  no  mere  theoretical 
34 


Cuthbert   St.  Jphn 

knowledge ;  it  was  gained  by  personal  experi- 
ence. Rosalie  had  been  proposed  to ! 

She  confided  the  details  to  her  most  inti- 
mate friends,  and  they  confided  them  to  their 
most  intimate  friends,  until  finally,  the  whole 
school  knew  the  entire  romantic  history. 

Rosalie's  preeminence  in  the  field  of  senti- 
ment was  held  entirely  fitting.  Priscilla 
might  excel  in  basket-ball,  Conny  Wilder  in 
dramatics,  Keren  Hersey  in  geometry  and 
Patty  Wyatt  in  —  well,  in  impudence  and  au- 
dacity—  but  Rosalie  was  the  recognized  au- 
thority in  matters  of  the  heart;  and  until 
Mae  Mertelle  Van  Arsdale  came,  nobody 
thought  of  questioning  her  position. 

Mae  Mertelle  spent  an  uncomfortable 
month  shaking  into  place  in  the  school  life. 
The  point  in  which  she  was  accustomed  to 
excel  was  clothes,  but  when  she  and  her  four 
trunks  arrived,  she  found  to  her  disgust  that 
clothes  were  not  useful  at  St.  Ursula's.  The 
school  uniform  reduced  all  to  a  dead  level 
in  the  matter  of  fashion.  There  was  an- 
other field,  however,  in  which  she  might  hope 

35 


Just    Patty 

for  supremacy.  Her  own  sentimental  his- 
tory was  vivid,  compared  to  the  colorless 
lives  of  most,  and  she  proceeded  to  assert  her 
claims. 

One  Saturday  evening  in  October,  half-a- 
dozen  girls  were  gathered  in  Rosalie's  room, 
on  piled-up  sofa  cushions,  with  the  gas  turned 
low  and  the  light  of  the  hunter's  moon 
streaming  through  the  window.  They  had 
been  singing  softly  in  a  minor  key,  but  grad- 
ually the  singing  turned  to  talk.  The  talk, 
in  accordance  with  the  moonlight  and  flying 
clouds,  was  in  a  sentimental  vein;  and  it 
ended,  naturally,  with  Rosalie's  Great  Ex- 
perience. Between  maidenly  hesitations  and 
many  promptings  she  retold  the  story  —  the 
jiew  girls  had  never  heard  it,  and  to  the  old 
girls  it  was  always  new. 

The  stage  setting  had  been  perfect  —  a 
moonlit  beach,  and  lapping  waves  and  rust- 
ling pine  trees.  When  Rosalie  chanced  to 
omit  any  detail,  her  hearers,  already  familiar 
with  the  story,  eagerly  supplied  it. 

"  And  he  held  your  hand  all  the  time  he 
was  talking,"  Priscilla  prompted. 

36 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

"Oh,  Rosalie!  Did  he?"  in  a  shocked 
chorus  from  the  newcomers. 

"  Y  —  yes.  He  just  sort  of  took  hold  of 
it  and  forgot  to  let  go,  and  I  did  n't  like  to 
remind  him." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  He  said  he  could  n't  live  without  me." 

"  And  what  did  you  say?  " 

"  I  said  I  was  awfully  sorry,  but  he  'd 
have  to." 

"And  then  what  happened?" 

"  Nothing  happened,"  she  was  obliged  to 
confess.  "  I  s'pose  something  might  have 
happened  if  I  'd  accepted  him,  but  you  see, 
I  didn't." 

"  But  you  were  very  young  at  the  time," 
suggested  Evalina  Smith.  "  Are  you  sure 
you  knew  your  own  mind?  " 

Rosalie  nodded  with  an  air  of  melancholy 
regret. 

"  Yes.  I  knew  I  could  n't  ever  love  him, 
because,  he  —  well,  he  had  an  awfully  funny 
nose.  It  started  to  point  in  one  direction, 
and  then  changed  its  mind  and  pointed  in  the 
other." 

37 


Just    Patty 


Her  hearers  would  have  preferred  that 
she  had  omitted  this  detail;  but  Rosalie  was 
literal-minded  and  lacked  the  story-teller's 
instinct  for  suppression. 

"  He  asked  if  there  was  n't  any  hope  that 
I  would  change,"  she  added  pensively.  "  I 
told  him  that  I  could  never  love  him  enough 
to  marry  him,  but  that  I  would  always  re- 
spect him." 

"  And  then  what  did  he  say?  " 

"  He  said  he  would  n't  commit  sui- 
cide." 

A  profound  hush  followed,  while  Rosalie 
gazed  at  the  moon  and  the  others  gazed  at 
Rosalie.  With  her  gleaming  hair  and  violet 
eyes,  she  was  entirely  their  ideal  of  a  story- 
book heroine.  They  did  not  think  of  envy- 
ing her ;  they  merely  wondered  and  admired. 
She  was  crowned  by  natural  right,  Queen 
of  Romance. 

Mae  Van  Arsdale,  who  had  listened  in 
silence  to  the  recital,  was  the  first  to  break 
the  spell.  She  rose,  fluffed  up  her  hair, 
straightened  her  blouse,  and  politely  sup- 
pressed a  yawn. 

38 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

"  Nonsense,  Rosalie !  You  're  a  silly  lit- 
tle goose  to  make  such  a  fuss  over  nothing. 
—  Good-night,  children.  I  'm  going  to 
bed." 

She  sauntered  toward  the  door,  but  paused 
on  the  threshold  to  drop  the  casual  state- 
ment. "  /  've  been  proposed  to  three 


times." 


A  shocked  gasp  arose  from  the  circle  at 
this  lese-majeste.  The  disdainful  condescen- 
sion of  a  new  girl  was  more  than  they  could 
brook. 

"  She  's  a  horrid  old  thing,  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  she  says!"  Priscilla  declared 
stoutly,  as  she  kissed  poor  crushed  little 
Rosalie  good-night. 

This  slight  contretemps  marked  the  be- 
ginning of  strained  relations.  Mae  Mer- 
telle  gathered  her  own  adherents,  and  Rosa- 
lie's special  coterie  of  friends  rallied  to  the 
standard  of  their  queen.  They  intimated 
to  Mae's  followers  that  the  quality  of  the 
romance  was  quite  different  in  the  two  cases. 
Mae  might  be  the  heroine  of  any  number 
of  commonplace  flirtations,  but  Rosalie  was 
39 


Just   Patty 

the  victim  of  a  grande  passion.  She  was 
marked  with  an  indelible  scar  that  she  would 
carry  to  the  grave.  In  the  heat  of  their 
allegiance,  they  overlooked  the  crookedness 
of  the  hero's  nose  and  the  avowed  fact  that 
Rosalie's  own  affections  had  not  been  en> 
gaged. 

But  Mae's  trump  card  had  been  withheld. 
Whispers  presently  spread  about  under  the 
seal  of  confidence.  She  was  hopelessly  in 
love.  It  was  not  a  matter  of  the  past  vaca- 
tion, but  of  the  burning  present.  Her  room- 
mate wakened  in  the  night  to  hear  her  sobbing 
*-,o  herself.  She  had  no  appetite  —  her 
whole  table  could  testify  to  that.  In  the 
middle  of  dessert,  even  on  ice-cream  nights, 
she  would  forget  to  eat,  and  with  her  spoon 
half-raised,  would  sit  staring  into  space. 
When  reminded  that  she  was  at  the  table, 
she  would  start  guiltily  and  hastily  bolt  the 
rest  of  the  meal.  Her  enemies  unkindly  | 
commented  upon  the  fact  that  she  always 
came  to  before  the  end,  so  she  got  as  much  as 
anybody  else. 

The  English  classes  at  St.  Ursula's  were 
40 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

weekly  drilled  in  the  old-fashioned  art  of 
letter  writing.  The  girls  wrote  letters  home, 
minutely  descriptive  of  school  life.  They 
addressed  imaginary  girl  friends,  and  grand- 
mothers and  college  brothers  and  baby  sis- 
ters. They  were  learning  the  great  secret 
of  literary  forcefulness  —  to  suit  their  style 
to  their  audience.  Ultimately,  they  arrived 
at  the  point  of  thanking  imaginary  young 
men  for  imaginary  flowers.  Mae  listened 
to  the  somewhat  stilted  phraseology  of  these 
polite  and  proper  notes  with  a  supercilious 
smile.  The  class,  covertly  regarding  her, 
thrilled  anew. 

Gradually,  the  details  of  the  romance 
spread  abroad.  The  man  was  English  — • 
Mae  had  met  him  on  the  steamer  —  and 
some  day  when  his  elder  brother  died  (the 
brother  was  suffering  from  an  incurable 
malady  Jiat  would  carry  him  off  in  a  few 
years)  he  would  come  into  the  title;  though 
just  what  the  title  was,  Mae  had  not  spe- 
cifically stated.  But  in  any  case,  her  father 
was  a  staunch  American;  he  hated  the  Eng- 
lish and  he  hated  titles.  No  daughter  of 


Just    Patty 

his  should  ever  marry  a  foreigner.  If  she 
did,  she  would  never  receive  a  dollar  from 
him.  However,  neither  Mae  nor  Cuthbert 
cared  about  the  money.  Cuthbert  had 
plenty  of  his  own.  His  name  was  Cuth- 
bert St.  John.  (Pronounced  Sinjun.)  He 
had  four  names  in  all,  but  those  were  the  two 
he  used  the  most.  He  was  in  England  low, 
having  been  summoned  by  cable,  owing  to  the 
critical  condition  of  his  brother's  health,  but 
the  crisis  was  past,  and  Cuthbert  would  soon 
be  returning.  Then  —  Mae  closed  her  lips 
in  a  straight  line  and  stared  defiantly  into 
space.  Her  father  should  see ! 

Before  the  throbbing  reality  of  this  ro- 
mance, Rosalie's  poor  little  history  paled 
into  nothing. 

Then  the  plot  began  to  thicken.  Studying 
the  lists  of  incoming  steamers,  Mae  an- 
nounced to  her  room-mate  that  he  had 
landed.  He  had  given  his  word  to  her  fa- 
ther not  to  write ;  but  she  knew  that  in  some 
way  she  should  hear.  And  sure  enough! 
The  following  morning  brought  a  nameless 
bunch  of  violets.  There  had  been  doubters 
42 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

before  —  but  at  this  tangible  proof  of  devo- 
tion, skepticism  crumbled. 

Mae  wore  her  violets  to  church  on  Sun- 
day. The  school  mixed  its  responses  in  a 
shocking  fashion  —  nobody  pretended  to 
follow  the  service;  all  eyes  were  fixed  on 
Mae's  upturned  face  and  far-off  smile. 
Patty  Wyatt  pointed  out  that  Mae  had  taken 
special  pains  to  seat  herself  in  the  light  of 
a  stained-glass  window,  and  that  occasion- 
ally the  rapt  eyes  scanned  the  faces  of  her 
companions,  to  make  sure  that  the  effect  was 
reaching  across  the  footlights.  But  Patty's 
insinuation  was  indignantly  repudiated  by  the 
school. 

Mae  was  at  last  triumphantly  secure  in  the 
role  of  leading  lady.  Poor  insipid  Rosalie 
no  longer  had  a  speaking  part. 

The  affair  ran  on  for  several  weeks  gath- 
ering momentum  as  it  moved.  In  the  Eu- 
ropean Travel  Class  that  met  on  Monday 
nights,  "  English  Country  Seats "  was  the 
subject  of  one  of  the  talks,  illustrated  by  the 
stercopticon.  As  a  stately,  terraced  man- 
sion, with  deer  cropping  grass  in  the  fore- 


Just   Patty 

ground,  was  thrown  upon  the  screen,  Mae 
Mertelle  suddenly  grew  faint.  She  vouch- 
safed no  reason  to  the  housekeeper  who 
came  with  hot-water  bottles  and  cologne ;  but 
later,  she  whispered  to  her  room-mate  that 
that  was  the  house  where  he  was  born. 

Violets  continued  to  arrive  each  Saturday, 
and  Mae  became  more  and  more  distrait. 
The  annual  basket-ball  game  with  Highland 
Hall,  a  near-by  school  for  girls,  was  immi- 
nent. St.  Ursula's  had  been  beaten  the  year 
before;  it  would  mean  everlasting  disgrace 
if  defeat  met  them  a  second  time,  for  High- 
land Hall  was  a  third  their  size.  The  cap- 
tain harangued  and  scolded  an  apathetic 
team. 

"  It 's  Mae  Mertelle  and  her  beastly  vio- 
lets !  "  she  disgustedly  grumbled  to  Patty. 
"  She  's  taken  all  the  fight  out  of  them." 

The  teachers,  meanwhile,  were  uneasily 
jaware  that  the  atmosphere  was  overcharged. 
The  girls  stood  about  in  groups,  thrilling 
visibly  when  Mae  Mertelle  passed  by. 
There  was  a  moonlight  atmosphere  about 
the  school  that  was  not  conducive  to  high 
44 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

marks    in    Latin    prose    composition.     The 
matter  finally  became  the  subject  of  an  anx- 
ious faculty  meeting.     There  was  no  actual 
data   at  hand;   it  was  all  surmise,   but  the 
source    of    the    trouble    was    evident.     The 
school  had  been  swept  before  by  a  wave  of 
sentiment;  it  was  as  catching  as  the  measles. 
The  Dowager  was  inclined  to  think  that  the 
simplest  method  of  clearing  the  atmosphere 
would  be  to  pack  Mae  Mertelle  and  her  four 
trunks  back  to  the  paternal  fireside,  and  let 
her  foolish  mother  deal  with  the  case.     Miss 
Lord  was  characteristically  bent  upon  fight- 
ing it  out.     She  would  stop  the  nonsense  by 
force.     Mademoiselle,  who  was  inclined  to 
sentiment,    feared   that   the   poor  child  was 
really  suffering.     She  thought  sympathy  and 
tact  —  But     Miss     Sallie's     bluff     common- 
sense  won  the  day.     If  the  sanity  of  Saint 
Ursula's  demanded  it,  Mae   Mertelle  must 
go;  but  she  thought,  by  the  use  of  a  little 
diplomacy,  both  St.  Ursula's  sanity  and  Mae 
Mertelle   might   be    preserved.     Leave    the 
matter   to    her.     She   would   use    her    own 
methods. 

45 


Just    Patty 

Miss  Sallie  was  the  Dowager's  daughter, 
She  managed  the  practical  end  of  the  estat> 
lishment  —  provided  for  the  table,  ruled  thq 
servants,  and  ran  off,  with  the  utmost  ease, 
the  two  hundred  acres  of  the  school  farm. 
Between  the  details  of  horseshoeing  and  hay* 
ing  and  butter-making,  she  lent  her  abilities 
wherever  they  were  needed.  She  never 
taught;  but  she  disciplined.  The  school  wag 
noted  for  unusual  punishments,  and  most 
of  them  originated  in  Miss  Sallie's  brain. 
Her  title  of  "  Dragonette  "  was  bestowed  in 
respectful  admiration  of  her  mental  quali- 
ties. 

The  next  day  was  Tuesday,  Miss  Sallie's 
regular  time  for  inspecting  the  farm.  As 
she  came  downstairs  after  luncheon  drawing 
on  her  driving  gloves,  she  just  escaped  step- 
ping on  Conny  Wilder  and  Patty  Wyatt  who, 
flat  on  their  stomachs,  were  trying  to  poke  out 
a  golf  ball  from  under  the  hat-rack. 

"Hello,  girls!"  was  her  cheerful  greet- 
ing. "  Would  n't  you  like  a  little  drive  to 
the  farm?  Run  and  tell  Miss  Wadsworth 
that  you  are  excused  from  afternoon  study. 

46 


Cuthbert   St.  John 

You  may  stay  away   from   Current  Event- 
this  evening,  and  make  it  up." 

The  two  scrambled  into  hats  and  coats  in 
excited  delight.  A  visit  to  Round  Hill 
Farm  with  Miss  Sallie,  was  the  greatest  good 
that  St.  Ursula's  had  to  offer.  For  Miss 
Sallie  —  out  of  bounds  —  was  the  funniest, 
most  companionable  person  in  the  world. 
After  an  exhilarating  five-mile  drive  through 
a  brown  and  yellow  October  landscape,  they 
spent  a  couple  of  hours  romping  over  the 
farm,  had  milk  and  ginger  cookies  in  Mrs. 
Spencc's  kitchen;  and  started  back,  wedged 
in  between  cabbages  and  eggs  and  butter. 
They  chatted  gaily  on  a  dozen  different 
themes  —  the  Thanksgiving  masquerade,  a 
possible  play,  the  coming  game  with  High- 
land Hall,  and  the  lamentable  new  rule  that 
made  them  read  the  editorials  in  the  daily 
papers.  Finally,  when  conversation  flagged 
for  a  moment,  Miss  Sallie  dropped  the  casual 
inquiry: 

"  By  the  way,  girls,  what  has  got  into  Mae 
Van  Arsdale?  She  droops  about  in  corners 
and  looks  as  dismal  as  a  molting  chicken." 

47 


Just   Patty 


Patty  and  Conny  exchanged  a  glance. 

"  Of  course,"  Miss  Sallie  continued  cheer- 
fully,  "  it 's  perfectly  evident  what  the  trouble 
is.  I  have  n't  been  connected  with  a  board- 
ing-school for  ten  years  for  nothing.  The 
little  idiot  is  posing  as  the  object  of  an  un- 
happy affection.  You  know  that  I  never 
favor  talebearing,  but,  just  as  a  matter  of 
curiosity,  is  it  the  young  man  who  passes  the 
plate  in  church,  or  the  one  who  sells  ribbon 
in  Marsh  and  Elkins's?" 

"Neither."  Patty  grinned.  "  It 's  an 
English  nobleman." 

"What?"     Miss  Sallie  stared. 

"And  Mae's  father  hates  English  noble- 
men," Conny  explained,  "  and  has  forbidden 
him  ever  to  see  her  again." 

"  Her  heart  is  broken,"  said  Patty  sadly. 
"  She  's  going  into  a  decline." 

"And  the  violets?"  inquired  Miss  Sallie. 

"  He  promised  not  to  send  her  any  letters, 
but  violets  were  n't  mentioned." 

"  H'm,  I  see!  "  said  Miss  Sallie;  and,  after 
a  moment  of  thought,  "  Girls,  I  am  going  to 
48  ' 


His  name  was  Cuthbert  St.  John 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

leave  this  matter  in  your  hands.  I  want  it 
stopped." 

"  In  our  hands?" 

;'  The  school  can't  be  stirred  up  any 
longer ;  but  the  matter  's  too  silly  to  warrant 
the  teachers  taking  any  notice  of  it.  This 
is  a  thing  that  ought  to  be  regulated  by  pub- 
lic opinion.  Suppose  you  see  what  you  can 
do  —  I  will  appoint  you  a  committee  to  bring 
the  school  back  to  a  solid  basis  of  common 
sense.  I  know  that  I  can  trust  you  not  to 
talk." 

"  I  don't  exactly  see  what  we  can  do,"  said 
Patty,  dubiously. 

'  You  are  usually  not  without  resource- 
fulness," Miss  Sallie  returned  with  a  flicker- 
ing smile.  "  You  may  have  carte  blanche 
to  choose  your  own  methods." 

"And  may  we  tell  Priscilla?"  Conny 
asked.  "We  must  tell  her  because  we 
•three  — " 

"Hunt  together?"  Miss  Sallie  nodded. 
"  Tell  Priscilla,  and  let  it  stop  at  that." 

The  next  afternoon,  when  Martin  drove 
49 


Just    Patty 

into  the  village  to  accomplish  the  daily  er- 
rands, he  dropped  Patty  and  Priscilla  at  the 
florists,  empowered  by  the  school  to  pur- 
chase flowers  for  the  rector's  wife  and  new 
baby.  They  turned  inside,  their  minds  en- 
tirely occupied  with  the  rival  merits  of  red 
and  white  roses.  They  ordered  their  flow- 
ers, inscribed  the  card,  and  then  waited  aim- 
lessly till  Martin  should  return  to  pick  them 
up.  Passing  down  the  counter,  they  came 
upon  a  bill-sticker,  the  topmost  item  being, 
"  Violets  every  Saturday  to  Miss  Mae  Van 
Arsdale,  St.  Ursula's  School." 

They  stopped  and  stared  for  a  thought- 
ful moment.  The  florist  followed  their 
gaze. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  the  young  lady 
who  ordered  them  vi'lets?"  he  inquired. 
"  She  did  n't  leave  any  name,  and  I  'd  like 
to  know  if  she  wants  me  to  keep  on  sending 
em.  She  only  paid  up  to  the  first,  and  the 
price  is  going  up." 

"  No,   I   don't  know  who   it  was,"   said 
Patty,       with       well-assumed       indifference. 
"What  did  she  look  like?" 
50 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

"  She  —  she  had  on  a  blue  coat,"  he  sug- 
gested. As  all  sixty-four  of  the  St.  Ursula 
girls  wore  blue  coats,  his  description  was  not- 
helpful. 

"  Oh,"  Patty  prompted,  u  was  she  quite 
tall  with  a  lot  of  yellow  hair  and  — " 

"That's  her!" 

He  recognized  the  type  with  some  assur- 
ance. 

"It's  Mae  herself!"  Priscilla  whispered 
excitedly. 

Patty  nodded  and  commanded  silence. 

"  We  '11  tell  her,"  she  promised.  "  And 
by  the  way,"  she  added  to  Priscilla,  "  I  think 
it  would  be  nice  for  us  to  send  some  flowers 
to  Mae,  from  our  —  er  —  secret  society. 
But  I  'm  afraid  the  treasury  is  pretty  low 
just  now.  They  '11  have  to  be  cheaper  than 
violets.  What  are  your  cheapest  flowers?" 
she  inquired  of  the  man. 

;<  There  's  a  kind  of  small  sunflower  that 
some  people  likes  for  decoration.  '  Cut-and- 
come-again  '  they  're  called.  I  can  give  you 
a  good-sized  bunch  for  fifty  cents.  They 
make  quite  a  show." 


Just   Patty 

"  Just  the  thing  1  Send  a  bunch  of  sun- 
flowers to  Miss  Van  Arsdale  with  this  card.'* 
Patty  drew  a  blank  card  toward  her,  and  in 
an  upright  back  hand  traced  the  inscription, 
"  Your  disconsolate  C.  St.  J." 

She  sealed  it  in  an  envelope,  then  regarded 
the  florist  sternly. 

"  Are  you  a  Mason?  "  she  asked,  her  eye 
on  the  crescent  in  his  buttonhole. 

"  Y  —  yes,"  he  acknowledged. 

"  Then  you  understand  the  nature  of  an 
oath  of  secrecy?  You  are  not  to  divulge 
to  anyone  the  sender  of  these  flowers.  The 
tall  young  lady  with  the  yellow  hair  will 
come  in  here  and  try  to  make  you  tell  who 
sent  them.  You  are  not  to  remember.  It 
may  even  have  been  a  man.  You  don't 
know  anything  about  it.  This  secret  so- 
ciety at  Saint  Ursula's  is  so  very  much  more 
secret  than  the  Masonic  Society,  that  it  is 
even  a  secret  that  it  exists.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"I  —  yes,  ma'am,"  he  grinned. 

"  If  it  becomes  known,"  she  added  darkly, 
"  I  shall  not  be  responsible  for  your  life." 

52 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

She  and  Priscilla  each  contributed  a  quar- 
ter. 

"  It 's  going  to  be  expensive,"  Patty 
•  sighed.  "I  think  we'll  have  to  ask  Miss 
Sallie  for  an  extra  allowance  while  this  com- 
mittee is  in  session." 

Mae  was  in  her  room,  surrounded  by  an 
assemblage  of  her  special  followers,  when 
the  flowers  arrived.  She  received  the  box 
in  some  bewilderment. 

"  He  's  sending  flowers  on  Wednesdays  as 
well  as  Saturdays!"  her  room-mate  cried. 
"  He  must  be  getting  desperate." 

Mae  opened  the  box  amid  an  excited 
hush. 

"  How  perfectly  lovely!"  they  cried  in 
chorus,  though  with  a  slightly  perfunctory 
undertone.  They  would  have  preferred 
crimson  roses. 

Mae  regarded  the  offering  for  a  moment 
of  stupefied  amazement.  She  had  been  pre^ 
tending  so  long,  that  by  now  she  almost  be« 
lieved  in  Cuthbert  herself.  The  circle  was 
waiting,  and  she  rallied  her  powers  to  meet 
this  unexpected  crisis. 

53 


Just    Patty 


"I  wonder  what  sunflowers  mean?"  she 
asked  softly.  "  They  must  convey  some 
message.  Does  anybody  know  the  language 
of  flowers?" 

Nobody  did  know  the  language  of  flow- 
ers; but  they  were  relieved  at  the  sugges- 
tion. 

"  Here  's  a  card!  "  Evalina  Smith  plucked 
it  from  among  the  bristling  leaves. 

Mae  made  a  motion  to  examine  it  in  pri- 
vate, but  she  had  been  so  generous  with  her 
confidences  heretofore,  that  she  was  not  al- 
lowed to  withdraw  them  at  this  interesting 
point.  They  leaned  over  her  shoulder  andl 
read  it  aloud. 

"'Your  disconsolate  C.  St.  J.'—  Oh> 
Mae,  think  how  he  must  be  suffering!  " 

"Poor  man!" 

"  He  simply  could  n't  remain  silent  any 
longer." 

"  He 's  the  soul  of  honor,"  said  Mae. 
"  He  would  n't  write  a  real  letter  because 
he  promised  not  to,  but  I  suppose  —  a  little 
message  like  this — " 

Patty  Wyatt  passing  the  door,  sauntered 
54 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

in.     The   card  was  exhibited  in  spite   of  a 
feeble  protest  from  Mae. 

"  That  handwriting  shows  a  lot  of  char- 
acter," Patty  commented. 

This  was  considered  a  concession;  for 
Patty,  from  the  first,  had  held  aloof  from  the 
cult  of  Cuthbert  St.  John.  She  was  Rosalie's 
friend. 

The  days  that  followed,  were  filled  with 
bewildering  experiences  for  Mae  Mertelle. 
Having  accepted  the  first  installment  of  sun- 
flowers, she  could  not  well  refuse  the  sec- 
ond. Once  having  committed  herself,  she 
was  lost.  Candy  and  books  followed  the 
flowers  in  horrifying  profusion.  The  candy 
was  of  an  inexpensive  variety  —  Patty  had 
discovered  the  ten-cent  store  —  but  the  boxes 
that  contained  it  made  up  in  decorativeness 
what  the  candy  lacked;  they  were  sprinkled 
with  Cupids  and  roses  in  vivid  profusion.  A 
message  in  the  same  back  hand  accompanied 
each  gift,  signed  sometimes  with  initials,  and 
sometimes  with  a  simple  "  Bertie."  Parcels 
had  never  before  been  delivered  with  such 
unsuspicious  promptitude.  Miss  Sallie  was 
55 


Just    Patty 


the  one  through  whose  hands  they  went.  She 
glanced  at  thcv  outside,  scrawled  a  "  deliver," 
and  the  maid  would  choose  the  most  embar- 
rassing moments  to  comply  —  always  when, 
Mae  Mertelle  was  surrounded  by  an  audi- 
ence. 

Mae's  Englishman,  from  an  object  of  sen- 
timent, in  a  few  days'  time  became  the  joke 
of  the  school.  His  taste  in  literature  was  as 
impossible  as  his  taste  in  candy.  He  ran  to 
titles  which  are  supposed  to  be  the  special 
prerogative  of  the  kitchen.  "  Loved  and 
Lost,"  "  A  Born  Coquette,"  "  Thorns  among 
the  Orange  Blossoms."  Poor  Mae  repudi- 
ated them,  but  to  no  avail ;  the  school  had  ac- 
cepted Cuthbert  —  and  was  bent  upon  elicit- 
ing all  the  entertainment  possible  from  his 
British  vagaries.  Mae's  life  became  one  long 
dread  of  seeing  the  maid  appear  with  a  par- 
cel. The  last  straw  was  the  arrival  of  a 
complete  edition  —  in  paper  —  of  Marie 
Corelli. 

"  He  —  he  never  sent  them !  "  she  sobbed. 
41  Somebody's  just  trying  to  be  funny." 

56 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

"  You  mustn't  mind,  Mae,  because  they 
are  n't  just  the  sort  that  an  American  man 
would  choose,"  Patty  offered  comfort. 
*  You  know  that  Englishmen  have  queer 
tastes,  particularly  in  books.  Everybody 
reads  Marie  Corelli  over  there." 

The  next  Saturday,  a  party  of  girls  was 
taken  to  the  city  for  shopping  and  the  mat- 
inee. Among  other  errands,  the  art  class 
visited  a  photograph  dealer's,  to  purchase 
some  early  Italian  masters.  Patty's  interest 
m  Giotto  and  his  kind  was  not  very  keen,  and 
she  sauntered  off  on  a  tour  of  inspection. 
She  happened  upon  a  pile  of  actors  and  ac- 
tresses, and  her  eye  brightened  as  she  singled 
out  a  large  photograph  of  an  unfamiliar  lead- 
ing man,  with  curling  mustache  and  dimpled 
chin  and  large  appealing  eyes.  He  was 
dressed  in  hunting  costume  and  conspicuously 
displayed  a  crop.  The  picture  was  the  last 
word  in  Twentieth  Century  Romance.  And, 
most  perfect  touch  of  all,  it  bore  a  London 
mark! 

Patty  unobtrusively  deflected  the  rest  of 
57 


Just   Patty 


the  committee  from  a  consideration  of  Fra 
Angelico,  and  the  three  heads  bent  delight- 
edly over  the  find. 

,  "  It 's  perfect!  "  Conny  sighed.  "  But  it 
costs  a  dollar  and  fifty  cents." 

"  We  '11  have  to  go  without  soda  water 
forever!"  said  Priscilla. 

"  It  is  expensive,"  Patty  agreed,  "  but — " 
as  she  restudied  the  liquid,  appealing  eyes  — • 
"  I  really  think  it 's  worth  it." 

They  each  contributed  fifty  cents,  and  the 
picture  was  theirs. 

Patty  wrote  across  the  front,  in  the  bold 
back  hand  that  Mae  had  come  to  hate,  a  ten- 
der message  in  French,  and  signed  the  full 
name,  "  Cuthbert  St.  John."  She  had  it 
wrapped  in  a  plain  envelope  and  requested 
the  somewhat  wondering  clerk  to  mail  it  the 
following  Wednesday  morning,  as  it  was  an 
anniversary  present  and  must  not  arrive  be- 
tfore  the  day. 

The  picture  came  on  the  five-o'clock  deliv- 
ery, and  was  handed  to  Mae  as  the  girls 
trooped  out  from  afternoon  study.  She  re- 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

ceived  it  in  sulky  silence  and  retired  to  her 
room.  Half  a  dozen  of  her  dearest  friends 
followed  at  her  heels ;  Mae  had  worked  hard 
to  gain  a  following,  and  now  it  could  n't  be 
shaken  off. 

"  Open  it,  Mae,  quick!  " 

"  What  do  you  s'pose  it  is?  " 

"  It  can't  be  flowers  or  candy.  He  must 
be  starting  something  new." 

"  I  don't  care  what  it  is !  "  Mae  viciously 
tossed  the  parcel  into  the  wastebasket. 

Irene  McCullough  fished  it  out  and  cut  the 
string. 

"Oh,  Mae,  it's  his  photograph!"  she 
squealed.  "  And  he 's  per-fect-ly  beau-ti- 
ful!" 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  eyes !  " 

"  Does  he  curl  his  mustache,  or  is  it  nat- 
ural?" 

'  Why  did  n't  you  tell  us  he  had  a  dimple 
in  his  chin?  " 

"  Does  he  always  wear  those  clothes?  " 

Mae  was  divided  between  curiosity  and  an- 
ger.    She    snatched    the   photograph    away, 
59 


Just   Patty 


cast  one  glance  at  the  languishing  brown  eyes, 
and  tumbled  it,  face  downward,  into  a  bu- 
reau drawer. 

"  Don't  ever  mention  his  name  to  me 
again!  "  she  commanded,  as,  with  compressed 
lips,  she  commenced  brushing  her  hair  for 
dinner. 

On  the  next  Friday  afternoon  —  shopping 
day  in  the  village  —  Patty  and  Conny  and 
Priscilla  dropped  in  at  the  florist's  to  pay  a 
bill. 

"  Two  bunches  of  sunflowers,  one  dollar," 
the  man  had  just  announced  in  ringing  tones 
from  the  rear  of  the  store,  when  a  step 
sounded  behind  them,  and  they  faced  about 
to  find  Mae  Mertelle  Van  Arsdale,  bent  on 
a  similar  errand. 

"  Oh!  "  said  Mae,  fiercely,  "  I  might  have 
known  it  was  you  three. " 

She  stared  for  a  moment  in  silence,  then 
she  dropped  into  a  rustic  seat  and  buried  her 
head  on  the  counter.  She  had  shed  so  many 
tears  of  late  that  they  flowed  automatically. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  sobbed,  "  you  '11  tell  the 
60 


Cuthbert  St.  John 

whole  school,  and  everybody  will  laugh  and 
—  and  — " 

The  three  regarded  her  with  unbending 
mien.  They  were  not  to  be  moved  by  a  few 
tears. 

"  You  said  that  Rosalie  was  a  silly  little 
goose  to  make  such  a  fuss  over  nothing,'' 
Priscilla  reminded  her. 

"  And  at  least  he  was  a  live  man,"  said 
Patty,  "  even  if  he  did  have  a  crooke4  nose." 

"  Do  you  still  think  she  was  a  silly 
goose?  "  Conny  inquired. 

"N  —  no!" 

"  Don't  you  think  you  Ve  been  a  great  deal 
more  silly?  " 

"Y  —  yes." 

"  And  will  you  apologize  to  Rosalie?  " 

11  .Nor1 

"  It  will  make  quite  a  funny  story,"  Patty, 
ruminated,  "  the  way  we  '11  tell  it." 

"  I  think  you  're  perfectly  horrid  1  " 

"Will  you  apologize  to  Rosalie?"  Pris- 
cilla asked  again. 

44  Yes  —  if  you  '11  promise  not  to  tell" 
61 


Just    Patty 


"  We  '11  promise  on  one  condition  — 
you  're  to  break  your  engagement  to  Cuthbert 
St.  John,  and  never  refer  to  it  again." 

Cuthbert  sailed  for  England  on  the 
Oceanic  the  following  Thursday ;  St.  Ursula's 
plunged  into  a  fever  of  basket-ball,  and  the 
atmosphere  became  bracingly  free  of  Ro- 
mance. 


62 


Ill 

The  Virgil  Strike 


Ill 
The  Virgil  Strike 

'M  tired  of  Woman's  Rights 
on  Friday  afternoons,"  said 
Patty  disgustedly.  "I  prefer 
soda  water !  " 
'  This  makes  the  third  time  they  've  taken 
away  our  holiday  for  the  sake  of  a  beastly 
lecture,"  Priscilla  grumbled,  as  she  peered 
over  Patty's  shoulder  to  read  the  notice  on 
the  bulletin  board,  in  Miss  Lord's  perpendic- 
ular library  hand. 

It  informed  the  school  that  instead  of  the 
usual  shopping  expedition  to  the  village,  they 
would  have  the  pleasure  that  afternoon  of 
listening  to  a  talk  by  Professor  McVey  of 
Columbia  University.  The  subject  would 
be  the  strike  of  the  women  laundry  workers. 
Tea  would  be  served  in  the  drawing-room 


Just    Patty 

afterwards,  with  Mae  Van  Arsdale,  Harriet 
Gladden,  and  Patty  Wyatt  as  hostesses. 

"  It 's  not  my  turn  I  "  objected  Patty,  as 
she  noted  the  latter  item.  "  I  was  hostess 
two  weeks  ago." 

"  That 's  because  you  wrote  an  essay  oa 
the  '  Eight  Hour  Day.'  Lordie  thinks  you 
will  ask  the  professor-man  intelligent  ques- 
tions; and  show  him  that  St.  Ursula's  is  not 
a  common  boarding-school  where  only  super- 
ficial accomplishments  are  taught,  but  one  in 
which  the  actual  problems  of  — " 

"  And  I  did  want  to  go  shopping !  "  Patty 
mourned.  "  I  need  some  new  shoe-strings. 
I  Ve  been  tying  a  knot  in  my  old  ones  every 
day  for  a  week." 

"  Here  she  comes,"  whispered  Priscilla. 
"  Look  happy  or  she  '11  make  you  translate 
the  whole  —  Good  morning,  Miss  Lord  I 
We  were  just  noticing  about  the  lecture.  It 
sounds  extremely  interesting." 

The  two  smiled  a  perfunctory  greeting,  and 
followed  their  teacher  to  the  morning's 
Latin. 

Miss  Lord  was  the  one  who  struck  the 
66 


The  Virgil  Strike 

modern  note  at  St.  Ursula's.  She  believed 
in  militant  suffragism  and  unions  and  boy- 
cotts and  strikes;  and  she  labored  hard  to 
bring  her  little  charges  to  her  own  advanced 
position.  But  it  was  against  a  heavy  inertia 
that  she  worked.  Her  little  charges  didn't 
care  a  rap  about  receiving  their  rights,  in  the 
dim  future  of  twenty-one ;  but  they  were  very 
much  concerned  about  losing  a  present  half- 
holiday.  On  Friday  afternoons,  they  were 
ordinarily  allowed  to  draw  checks  on  the 
school  bank  for  their  allowances,  and  march 
in  a  procession  —  a  teacher  forming  the  head 
and  tail  —  to  the  village  stores,  where  they 
laid  in  their  weekly  supply  of  hair  ribbons  and 
soda  water  and  kodak  films.  Even  had  one 
acquired  so  many  demerits  that  her  weekly 
stipend  was  entirely  eaten  up  by  fines,  still 
she  marched  to  the  village  and  watched  the 
lucky  ones  disburse.  It  made  a  break  in  the 
monotony  of  six  days  of  bounds. 

But  every  cloud  has  its  silver  lining. 

Miss  Lord  preceded  the  Virgil  recitation 
that  morning  by  a  discussion  of  the  lecture 
to  come.  The  laundry  strike,  she  told  them, 


Just   Patty 

marked  an  epoch  in  industrial  history.  It 
proved  that  women,  as  well  as  men,  were 
capable  of  standing  by  each  other.  The  sol- 
idarity of  labor  was  a  point  she  wished  her 
girls  to  grasp.  Her  girls  listened  with  grave 
attention;  and  by  eagerly  putting  a  question, 
whenever  she  showed  signs  of  running  down, 
Sthey  managed  to  stave  off  the  Latin  recitation 
for  three  quarters  of  an  hour. 

The  professor,  a  mild  man  with  a  Van  Dyke 
beard,  came  and  lectured  exhaustively  upon 
the  relations  of  employer  and  employed. 
His  audience  listened  with  politely  intelligent 
smiles,  but  with  minds  serenely  occupied  else- 
where. The  great  questions  of  Capital  and 
Labor,  were  not  half  so  important  to  them, 
as  the  fact  of  the  lost  afternoon,  or  the  es- 
says that  must  be  written  for  to-morrow's 
English,  or  even  that  this  was  ice-cream  night 
with  dancing  class  to  follow.  But  Patty,  on 
the  front  seat,  sat  with  wide,  serious  eyes 
fixed  on  the  lecturer's  face.  She  was  absorb- 
ing his  arguments  —  and  storing  them  for 
Use. 

Tea  followed  according  to  schedule.  The 
68 


The  Virgil  Strike 

three  chosen  ones  received  their  guests  with 
the  facility  of  long-tried  hostesses.  The  fact 
that  their  bearing  was  under  inspection,  with 
marks  to  follow,  did  not  appreciably  diminish 
their  ease.  They  were  learning  by  the  labora- 
tory method,  the  social  graces  that  would  be 
needed  later  in  the  larger  world.  Harriet 
and  Mae  presided  at  the  tea  table,  while 
Patty  engaged  the  personage  in  conversation. 
He  commented  later,  to  Miss  Lord,  upon  the 
students'  rare  understanding  in  economic  sub- 
jects. 

Miss  Lord  replied  with  some  complaisance 
that  she  endeavored  to  have  her  girls  think 
for  themselves.  Sociology  was  a  field  in 
which  lessons  could  not  be  taught  by  rote. 
Each  must  work  out  her  own  conclusions,  and 
act  upon  them. 

Ice-cream  and  dancing  restored  the  balance 
of  St.  Ursula's,  after  the  mental  exertions  of 
,the  afternoon.  At  half-past  nine  —  the 
school  did  not  retire  until  ten  on  dancing 
nights  —  Patty  and  Priscilla  dropped  their 
goodnight  courtesy,  murmured  a  polite 
"Bon  soir,  Mam'selle"  and  scampered  up- 


Just   Patty 

stairs,  still  very  wide  awake.  Instead  of  pre- 
paring for  bed  with  all  dispatch,  as  well-con- 
ducted school  girls  should,  they  engaged 
themselves  in  practising  the  steps  of  their 
new  Spanish  dance  down  the  length  of  the 
South  Corridor.  They  brought  up  with  a 
pirouette  at  Rosalie  Patton's  door. 

Rosalie,  still  in  the  pale  blue  fluffiness  of 
her  dancing  frock,  was  sitting  cross-legged 
on  the  couch,  her  yellow  curls  bent  over  the 
open  pages  of  a  Virgil,  tears  spattering  with 
dreary  regularity  on  the  lines  she  was  con- 
ning. 

The  course  of  Rosalie's  progress  through 
senior  Latin  might  be  marked  by  blistered 
pages.  She  was  a  pretty,  cuddling,  helpless 
little  thing,  deplorably  babyish  for  a  senior; 
but  irresistibly  appealing.  Everyone  teased 
her,  and  protected  her,  and  loved  her.  She 
was  irrevocably  predestined  to  bowl  over  the 
first  man  who  came  along,  with  her  ultra 
feminine  irresponsibility.  Rosalie  very  often 
dreamed  —  when  she  ought  to  have  been  con- 
centrating upon  Latin  grammar  —  of  that 
happy  future  state  in  which  smiles  and  kisses 
70 


The  Virgil  Strike 

would  take  the  place  of  gerunds  and  gerun- 
dives. 

"You  silly  little  muff!"  cried  Patty. 
"  Why  on  earth  are  you  bothering  with  Latin 
on  a  Friday  night?  " 

She  landed  herself  with  a  plump  on  Ro- 
salie's right,  and  took  away  the  book. 

"I  have  to,"  Rosalie  sobbed.  "  I  'd 
never  finish  if  I  did  n't  begin.  I  don't  see 
any  sense  to  it.  I  can't  do  eighty  lines  in 
two  hours.  Miss  Lord  always  calls  on  me 
for  the  end,  because  she  knows  I  won't  know 
it." 

"  Why  don't  you  begin  at  the  end  and  read 
backwards?"  Patty  practically  suggested. 

"  But  that  would  n't  be  fair,  and  I  can't  do 
it  so  fast  as  the  others.  I  work  more  than 
two  hours  every  day,  but  I  simply  never  get 
through.  I  know  I  shan't  pass." 

"  Eighty  lines  is  a  good  deal,"  Patty 
agreed. 

"  It 's  easy  for  you,  because  you  know  all 
the  words,  but  — " 

"  I  worked  more  than  two  hours  on  mine 
yesterday,"  said  Priscilla,  "  and  I  can't  af- 
7* 


Just    Patty 


ford  it  either.  I  have  to  save  some  time  for 
geometry." 

" /  just  simply  can't  do  it"  Rosalie  wailed. 
"  And  she  thinks  I  'm  stupid  because  I  don't 
keep  up  with  Patty." 

Conny  Wilder  drifted  in. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked,  view- 
ing Rosalie's  tear-streaked  face.  "  Cry  on 
the  pillow,  child.  Don't  spoil  your  dress." 

The  Latin  situation  was  explained. 

"  Oh,  it 's  awful  the  way  Lordie  works 
us!  She  would  like  to  have  us  spend  every 
moment  grubbing  over  Latin  and  sociology. 
She  — " 

"  Does  n't  think  dancing  and  French  and 
manners  are  any  good  at  all,"  sobbed  Rosalie, 
mentioning  the  three  branches  in  which  she 
excelled,  "  and  I  think  they  're  a  lot  more 
sensible  than  subjunctives.  You  can  put  them 
to  practical  use,  and  you  can't  sociology  and 
Latin." 

Patty  emerged  from  a  moment  of  revery. 

( There  's   not  much   use   in   Latin,"    she 

agreed,  "  but  I  should  think  that  something 

might  be  done  with  sociology.     Miss  Lord 

72 


The  Virgil  Strike 

told  us  to  apply  it  to  our   everyday  prob- 
lems." 

Rosalie  swept  the  idea  aside  with  a  gesture 
of  disdain. 

"  Listen !  "  Patty  commanded,  springing 
to  her  feet  and  pacing  the  floor  in  an  ecstasy 
of  enthusiasm.  "  I  've  got  an  idea !  It 's 
perfectly  true.  Eighty  lines  of  Virgil  is  too 
much  for  anybody  to  learn  —  particularly 
Rosalie.  And  you  heard  what  the  man  said: 
it  is  n't  fair  to  gage  the  working  day  by  the 
capacity  of  the  strongest.  The  weakest  has 
to  set  the  pace,  or  else  he  's  left  behind. 
That 's  what  Lordy  means  when  she  talks 
about  the  solidarity  of  labor.  In  any  trade, 
the  workers  have  got  to  stand  by  each  other. 
The  strong  must  protect  the  weak.  It 's  the 
duty  of  the  rest  of  the  class  to  stand  by  Ro- 
salie." 

"  Yes,  but  how?"  inquired  Priscilla, 
breaking  into  the  tirade. 

"  We  '11  form  a  Virgil  Union,  and  strike 
for  sixty  lines  a  day." 

"  Oh !  "   gasped  Rosalie,  horrified  at  the 
•audacity  of  the  suggestion. 
7? 


Just   Patty 

"  Let  's  I  "  cried  Conny,  rising  to  the  call 

"  Do  you  think  we  can?  "  asked  Priscilla, 
dubiously. 

uWhat  will  Miss  Lord  say?"  Rosalie 
quavered. 

"  She  can't  say  anything.  Did  n't  she  tell 
us  to  listen  to  the  lecture  and  apply  its  teach- 
ing?" 

"  She  '11  be  delighted  to  find  we  have,"  said 
Conny. 

"  But  what  if  she  doesn't  give  in?  " 

'  We  '11  call  out  the  Cicero  and  Caesar 
classes  in  a  sympathetic  strike." 

"  Hooray!  "  cried  Conny. 

"  Lordy  does  believe  in  Unions,"  Priscilla 
conceded.  "  She  ought  to  see  the  justice  of 


it." 


"  Of  course  she  '11  see  the  justice  of  it," 
Patty  insisted.  "  We  're  exactly  like  the 
laundry  workers  —  in  the  position  of  de- 
pendents, and  the  only  way  we  can  match 
strength  with  our  employer,  is  by  standing 
together.  If  Rosalie  alone  drops  back  to 
sixty  lines,  she  '11  be  flunked;  but  if  the  whole 
class  does,  Lordre  will  have  to  give  in." 
74 


The  Virgil  Strike 

"  Maybe  the  whole  class  won't  want  to 
join  the  union,"  said  Priscilla. 

"  We  '11  make  'em!  "  said  Patty.  In  ac- 
cordance with  Miss  Lord's  desire,  she  had 
grasped  some  basic  principles. 

"  We  '11  have  to  hurry,"  she  added,  glan- 
cing at  the  clock.  "  Pris,  you  run  and  find 
Irene  and  Harriet  and  Florence  Hissop ;  and 
Conny,  you  route  out  Nancy  Lee  —  she  's  up 
in  Evalina  Smith's  room  telling  ghost  stories. 
Here,  Rosalie,  stop  crying  and  dump  the 
things  off  those  chairs  so  somebody  can  sit 
down.'* 

Priscilla  started  obediently,  but  paused  on 
the  threshold. 

"And  what  will  you  do?"  she  inquired 
with  meaning. 

"  I,"  said  Patty,  "  will  be  labor  leader." 

The  meeting  was  convened,  and  Patty,  a 
self-constituted  chairman,  outlined  the  tenets 
of  the  Virgil  Union.  Sixty  lines  was  to  con- 
stitute a  working  day.  The  class  was  to  ex- 
plain the  case  to  Miss  Lord  at  the  regular 
session  on  Monday  morning,  and  politely  but 
positively  refuse  to  read  the  last  twenty  lines 
75 


Just    Patty 

that  had  been  assigned.  If  Miss  Lord 
proved  insistent,  the  girls  were  to  close  their 
books  and  go  out  on  strike. 

The  majority  of  the  class,  hypnotized  by 
Patty's  eloquence,  dazedly  accepted  the  pro- 
gram; but  Rosalie,  for  whose  special  benefit 
the  union  had  been  formed,  had  to  be  coerced 
into  signing  the  constitution.  Finally,  after 
a  wealth  of  argument  had  been  expended,  she 
wrote  her  name  in  a  very  wobbly  hand,  and 
sealed  it  with  a  tear.  By  nature,  Rosalie 
was  not  a  fighter;  she  preferred  gaining  her 
rights  by  more  feminine  methods. 

Irene  McCullough  had  also  to  be  forced. 
She  was  a  cautious  soul  who  looked  forward 
to  consequences.  One  of  the  most  frequently 
applied  of  St.  Ursula's  punishments  was  to 
make  the  culprit  miss  desserts.  Irene  suf- 
fered keenly  under  this  form  of  chastisement ; 
and  she  carefully  refrained  from  misdemean- 
ors which  might  bring  it  upon  her.  But 
Conny  produced  a  convincing  argument.  She 
threatened  to  tell  that  the  chambermaid  was 
in  the  habit  of  smuggling  in  chocolates  — 

76 


Patty  outlined  the  tenets  of  the  Virgil  Union 


The  Virgil   Strike 

and  poor  harassed  Irene,  threatened  with  the 
two-fold  loss  of  chocolates  and  dessert,  sul- 
lenly added  her  signature. 

"  Lights-out "  rang.  The  Virgil  Union 
adjourned  its  first  meeting  and  went  to  bed. 

• 

Senior  Latin  came  the  last  hour  of  the 
morning,  when  everyone  was  tired  and  hun- 
gry. On  the  Monday  following  the  found- 
ing of  the  Union,  the  Virgil  class  gathered 
outside  the  door,  in  growing  perturbation  as 
the  actual  time  for  the  battle  approached, 
Patty  rallied  them  in  a  brief  address. 

"  Brace  up,  Rosalie !  Don't  be  a  cry- 
baby. We  '11  help  you  out  if  the  last  lines 
come  to  you.  And  for  goodness'  sake,  girls, 
don't  look  so  scared.  Remember  you  're  suf- 
fering, not  only  for  yourselves,  but  for  all 
the  generations  of  Virgil  classes  that  come 
after  you.  Anyone  who  backs  down  now  is 
a  COWARD!  " 

Patty  established  herself  on  the  front  seat, 
directly  in  the  line  of  the  fire,  and  a  slight 
skirmish  occurred  at  the  outset.     Her  heavy 
77 


Just    Patty 


walking  boots  were  conspicuously  laced  with 
pale  blue  baby  ribbon,  which  caught  the 
enemy's  eye. 

'  That  is  scarcely  the  kind  of  shoe  laces 
that  a  lady  adopts.  May  I  ask,  Patty  — ?  " 

"  I  broke  my  other  laces,"  Patty  affably 
explained,  "  and  since  we  did  n't  go  shopping 
on  Friday,  I  could  n't  get  any  more.  I  don't 
quite  like  the  effect  myself,"  she  conceded, 
as  she  stuck  out  a  foot  and  critically  sur- 
veyed it. 

"  See  that  you  find  some  black  ones  imme- 
diately after  class,"  Miss  Lord  acidly  sug- 
gested. "  Priscilla,  you  may  read  the  first 
ten  lines." 

The  lesson  progressed  in  the  usual  manner, 
except  that  there  was  a  visible  tightening  of 
nerves  as  each  recitation  was  finished,  and 
they  waited  to  hear  the  next  name  called. 
Conny's  turn  ended  with  the  sixtieth  line. 
No  one  had  gone  beyond  that;  all  ahead  was 
virgin  jungle.  This  was  the  point  for  the 
Union  to  declare  itself;  and  the  burden,  true 
to  her  forebodings,  fell  upon  poor  trembling 
little  Rosalie. 

78 


The  Virgil  Strike 

She  cast  an  imploring  glance  toward 
Patty's  sternly  waiting  countenance,  stam- 
mered, hesitated,  and  miserably  plunged  into 
a  sight  translation.  Rosalie  never  had  the 
slightest  luck  at  sight  translations;  even  after 
two  hours  of  patient  work  with  a  dictionary, 
she  was  still  extremely  hesitant  as  to  meanings. 
Now,  she  blindly  forged  ahead, —  amid  a 
profound  hush  —  attributing  to  the  Pious 
^Eneas  a  most  amazing  set  of  actions.  She 
finished;  and  the  slaughter  commenced. 
Miss  Lord  spent  three  minutes  in  obliter- 
ating Rosalie;  then  passed  the  lines  to  Irene 
McCullough. 

Irene  drew  a  deep  breath  —  she  felt 
Conny  encouragingly  patting  her  on  the  back, 
while  Patty  and  Priscilla,  at  either  hand, 
jogged  her  elbow  with  insistent  touch.  She 
opened  her  mouth  to  declare  the  principles 
that  had  been  foisted  upon  her  over  night; 
then  she  caught  the  cold  gleam  of  Miss 
Lord's  eye.  Rosalie's  sobs  filled  the  room. 
And  she  fell.  Irene  was  fairly  good  at 
Latin  —  her  sight  translation  was  at  least  in- 
telligible. Miss  Lord's  comment  was  merely 
79 


just   Patty 

sarcastic,  as  she  passed  to  Florence  Hissop. 
By  this  time  the  panic  had  swept  through  the 
ranks.  Florence  would  like  to  have  been 
true  to  her  pledged  troth,  but  the  instinct  of 
self-preservation  is  strong.  She  improved  on 
Irene's  performance. 

;'  Take  the  next  ten  lines,  Patty,  and  en- 
deavor to  extract  a  glimmering  of  sense. 
Please  bear  in  mind  that  we  are  reading 
poetry." 

Patty  raised  her  head  and  faced  her  su- 
perior in  the  manner  of  a  Christian  martyr. 

"  I  only  prepared  the  first  sixty  lines,  Miss 
Lord." 

'*  Why  did  you  not  finish  the  lesson  that  I 
gave  out?  "  Miss  Lord  inquired  sharply. 

'  We  have  decided  that  eighty  lines  are 
more  than  we  can  do  in  a  day.  It  takes  too 
much  time  away  from  our  other  lessons.  We 
are  perfectly  willing  to  do  sixty  lines,  and 
do  them  thoroughly,  but  we  can't  consider 
any  more." 

Miss  Lord  for  a  moment  simply  stared. 
Never  had  she  known  such  a  flagrant  case  of 
insubordination.  And  it  was  purely  insub- 
80 


The  Virgil  Strike 

ordination,  for  Patty  was  the  most  capable 
person  in  the  class. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  gasped  at 
last. 

"  We  have  formed  a  Virgil  Union,"  Patty 
gravely  explained.  "  You,  Miss  Lord,  will 
appreciate  the  fairness  of  our  demands  bet- 
ter than  any  of  the  other  teachers,  because 
you  believe  in  unions.  Now,  the  girls  in 
this  class  feel  that  they  are  overworked  and 
underpa  —  er  —  that  is,  I  mean  the  lessons 
are  too  long." 

Patty  fetched  a  deep  breath  and  started 
again. 

"  Eighty  lines  a  day  does  n't  leave  us  any 
time  for  recreation,  so  we  have  determined 
to  join  together  and  demand  our  rights.  We 
occupy  the  position  of  skilled  laborers.  You 
can  get  all  the  girls  you  want  for  Caesar  and 
beginning  Latin,  but  you  can't  find  anybody 
but  us  to  read  Virgil.  It 's  like  the  laundry 
trade.  We  are  not  just  plain  boilers  and 
starchers;  we  are  fancy  ironers.  If  you  want 
to  have  a  Virgil  class,  you  have  got  to  have 
us.  You  can't  call  in  scab  labor.  Now,  we 
6  81 


Just   Patty 

are  n't  trying  to  take  advantage  because  of 
our  superior  strength.  We  are  perfectly 
willing  to  do  an  honest  day's  work,  but  we 
can't  allow  ourselves  to  be  — •  er  —  to  be  — " 

Patty  fumbled  a  moment  for  her  word, 
but  in  the  end  she  brought  it  out  trium- 
phantly. 

"  We  can't  allow  ourselves  to  be  exploited. 
Singly,  we  are  no  match  for  you,  but  together, 
we  can  dictate  our  own  terms.  Because  two 
or  three  of  us  can  keep  up  the  pace  you  set, 
is  no  reason  why  we  should  allow  the  others 
to  be  overworked.  It  is  our  duty  to  stand 
by  one  another  against  the  encroachments  of 
our  employer.  We  women  are  not  so  ad- 
vanced as  men.  But  we  are  learning.  Upon 
the  solidarity  of  labor  depends  the  life  of 
Rosalie.  In  case  you  refuse  to  meet  our  de- 
mands, the  Virgil  class  will  be  obliged  to  go 
out  on  strike." 

Patty  pronounced  her  ultimatum,  and 
leaned  back  with  folded  arms. 

A  moment  of  silence  followed.  Then 
Miss  Lord  spoke.  The  class  went  down  in 
hopeless,  abject  terror  before  the  stopm, 
82 


The  Virgil  Strike 

Miss  Lord's  icy  sarcasm  was,  in  moments  of 
intensity,  lightened  by  gleams  of  fire.  She 
had  Irish  ancestors  and  red  hair.  Patty 
alone  listened  with  head  erect  and  steely  eyes. 
The  red  blood  of  martyrs  dyed  her  cheeks. 
She  was  fighting  for  a  CAUSE.  Weak, 
helpless,  little  Rosalie,  sniffling  at  her  elbow, 
should  be  saved  —  the  cowardice  of  her  com- 
rades put  to  shame.  She,  single-handed, 
would  fight  and  win. 

Miss  Lord  finally  drew  breath. 

"  The  class  is  dismissed.  Patty  will  re- 
main in  the  schoolroom  until  she  has  trans- 
lated perfectly  the  last  twenty  lines.  I  will 
hear  her  read  them  after  luncheon." 

The  girls  rose  and  pressed  in  a  huddled 
body  toward  the  hall,  while  Patty  turned  into 
the  empty  schoolroom.  On  the  threshold 
she  paused  to  hurl  one  contemptuous  word 
oyer  her  shoulder: 

"Scabs!" 

The  lunch  bell  rang,  and  Patty  at  her 
desk  in  the  empty  schoolroom  heard  the  girls 
laughing  and  talking,  as  they  clattered  dowi? 

83 


Just    Patty 

the  tin-covered  back  stairs  to  the  dining-room. 
She  was  very  tired  and  very  hungry.  She 
had  had  five  hours  of  work  since  breakfast, 
with  only  a  glass  of  milk  at  eleven  o'clock. 
Even  the  pleasurable  sensation  of  being 
abused  did  not  quite  offset  the  pangs  of  hun- 
ger. She  listlessly  set  about  learning  the 
morrow's  lesson  in  French  History.  It  dealt 
with  another  martyr.  Louis  the  Ninth  left 
his  bones  bleaching  on  the  plains  of  Antioch. 
The  cause  was  different,  but  the  principle  re- 
mained. If  she  was  not  to  be  fed  until  she 
learned  that  Latin  —  very  well  —  she  would 
leave  her  bones  bleaching  in  the  schoolroom 
of  St.  Ursula's. 

An  insistent  tapping  sounded  on  the  win- 
dow. She  glanced  across  an  angle,  to  find 
Osaki,  the  Japanese  butler,  leaning  far  out 
from  his  pantry  window,  and  extending  to- 
ward her  a  dinner  plate  containing  a  large, 
lone  slab  of  turkey. 

"  Leave  plate  in  wastebasket,  Missy,"  he 
whispered  hoarsely. 

Patty,  for  an  instant,  struggled  with  dig- 
nity and  martyrdom,  but  hunger  and  a  love  of 


The  Virgil  Strike 

intrigue  triumphed.  She  tiptoed  over  and 
received  the  offering.  There  was  no  knife 
or  fork,  but  primitive  methods  suffice  in  a 
case  of  real  starvation.  She  finished  the  tur- 
key and  buried  the  plate  beneath  a  pile  of 
algebra  papers.  It  was  Osaki's  daily  busi- 
ness to  empty  the  wastebasket;  the  plate  in 
due  course  would  be  restored  to  its  shelf. 

A  few  moments  later  a  scurrying  footfall 
sounded  at  the  door,  and  a  little  Junior  A. 
darted  to  Patty's  side.  She  cast  a  conspira- 
torial glance  over  her  shoulder  as  she  drew 
from  a  bulging  blouse  two  buttered  rolls. 

'*  Take  'em  quick!  "  she  panted.  "  I  must 
hurry  back,  or  they  '11  suspect.  I  asked  to 
be  excused  to  get  a  handkerchief.  Keep  up 
your  courage.  We  won't  let  you  starve. 
It's  splendid!" 

She  thrust  the  rolls  into  Patty's  lap  and 
vanished. 

Patty  found  it  comforting  to  know  that  the 
school  was  with  her.  The  attractions  of 
martyrdom  are  enhanced  by  the  knowledge 
of  an  audience.  Also,  the  rolls  were  a  grate- 
ful addition  to  the  turkey;  her  five-hour 

85 


Just    Patty 

appetite  was  still  insistent.  She  finished1  one 
of  them  and  was  about  to  begin  on  the  sec- 
ond, when  furtive  footfalls  sounded  behind 
her,  and  one  of  the  maids  slipped  a  paper 
plate  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Here 's  some  fresh  gingerbread,  Miss 
Patty.  Cook  says  — " 

The  sound  of  a  closing  door  startled  her, 
and  she  skurried  off  like  a  detected  thief. 

Patty  placed  her  second  roll  in  the  waste- 
basket  in  company  with  the  turkey  plate,  and 
was  just  starting  on  the  gingerbread,  when  a 
scrambling  sounded  at  the  end  window.  'A 
blue  hat  appeared  momentarily  over  the  sill, 
its  owner  boosted  from  below,  and  an  un- 
identified hand  sent  an  orange  rolling  down 
the  center  aisle.  Patty  hastily  intercepted 
its  course  and  dropped  it  into  the  wastebasket. 
Luncheon  would  be  over  momentarily,  and  a 
visit  from  Miss  Lord  was  imminent.  This 
influx  of  supplies  was  growing  embarrassing. 

She  heard  the  rising  flood  of  talk  as  the 

girls    poured    from    the    dining-room.     She 

knew  that  sympathetic  groups  were  viewing 

her  from  the  open  doors  behind.     Judging 

86 


The  Virgil  Strike 

from  the  ceaseless  shuffle  of  footsteps,  all 
Saint  Ursula's  had  errands  that  led  past  the 
schoolroom  door.  Patty  did  not  cast  a 
glance  behind,  but  with  rigid  shoulders  stared 
into  space.  Presently  a  rattling  sounded 
above  her  head.  She  raised  startled  eyes  to 
a  register  set  in  the  ceiling,  and  saw  Irene 
McCullough's  anxious  face  peering  through 
the  opening. 

"  You  can  live  for  days  on  chocolates," 
came  in  a  stage  whisper.  "  I  'm  awfully 
sorry  there  's  only  half  a  pound ;  I  ate  the 
rest  last  night." 

The  register  was  lifted  out,  and  a  box  was 
swiftly  lowered  by  a  string.  Irene  was  chief 
of  the  scabs. 

;<  Thank  you,  Irene,"  Patty  returned  in  a 
haughty  stage  whisper.  "  I  do  not  care  to 
accept  any  — " 

Miss  Lord's  voice  became  audible  in  the 
hall. 

"I  thought,  young  ladies,  that  afternoon 
recreation  was  to  be  spent  out  of  doors?  " 

Patty  just  had  time  to  snatch  the  box  and 
drop  it  into  her  lap,  with  an  open  essay  book 


Just    Patty 

above,  when  Miss  Lord  advanced  into  the 
room.  Patty's  face  assumed  an  air  of  suf- 
fering stoicism,  as  she  stared  ahead,  in  the 
profound  hope  that  Irene  would  have  sense 
enough  to  remove  eight  feet  of  dangling 
string.  Miss  Lord  was  followed  by  Osaki, 
carrying  a  tray  with  two  slices  of  dry  bread 
and  a  glass  of  water. 

"Have  you  finished  your  Latin,  Patty?" 

"  No,  Miss  Lord." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  am  going  to  do  to-morrow's  lesson  in 
afternoon  study  hour." 

Patty's  tone  was  respectful,  but  her  mean- 
ing was  clear.  She  emphasized  slightly  the 
word  "  to-morrow." 

"  You  will  do  the  twenty  lines  immedi- 
ately." 

A  speaking  silence  from  Patty. 

"  Do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lord." 

"Well?"  The  monosyllable  was  sharp 
enough  to  cut. 

"  I  stand  by  my  principles,"  said  Patty. 
"  I  am  not  a  scab." 

88 


Patty  just  had  time  to  snatch  the  box 


The  Virgil   Strike 

"  You  may  sit  here  until  those  twenty  lines 
are  finished." 

"  Very  well,  Miss  Lord." 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  suffer.  Here  is 
bread  and  water." 

She  motioned  Osaki  to  set  down  the  tray. 

Patty  waved  it  aside. 

"  I  am  not  a  convict,"  she  said  with  dig- 
nity. "  I  refuse  to  eat  until  I  am  served 
properly  at  the  dining-room  table." 

A  fleeting  grin  replaced  for  a  moment 
Osaki's  Oriental  calm.  Miss  Lord  set  the 
bread  on  a  neighboring  desk,  and  the  two 
vdthdrew. 

All  through  recreation  and  afternoon 
study,  Patty  sat  at  her  desk,  the  plate  of 
bread  conspicuously  untouched  at  her  elbow. 
Then  the  five-o'clock  bell  rang,  and  the  girls 
trooped  out  and  dispersed  on  their  various 
businesses.  The  hour  between  afternoon 
study  and  dressing  bell,  was  the  one  hour  of 
the  day  entirely  their  own.  Patty  could  hear 
them  romping  up  the  back  stairs,  and  racing 
through  the  corridors.  Kid  McCoy  was 
conducting  a  pillow  fight  in  Paradise  Alley 
80 


just   Patty 

above  her  head.  Groups  passed  the  school- 
room window  with  happy  calls  and  laughter. 
Pepper  and  Tabasco,  the  two  riding  horses, 
were  saddled  and  brought  out.  She  could 
see  the  girls  taking  turns  in  galloping  around 
the  oval,  while  Martin,  as  ringmaster,  waved 
his  whip  and  urged  them  on.  Martin  now 
was  bent  with  rheumatism,  but  in  his  far-off, 
reckless  youth  he  had  been  a  cowboy,  and 
when  he  taught  the  girls  to  ride,  it  was  with 
a  disregard  of  broken  bones  that  dismayed 
even  the  adventurous  gymnasium  teacher. 
Patty  was  his  star  pupil;  she  could  stick  on 
Red  Pepper's  back  with  nothing  but  a  blanket 
to  hold  her.  It  was  only  very  occasionally, 
when  Martin  was  in  a  propitious  mood,  that 
the  horses  were  saddled  for  mere  public 
amusement.  Patty's  heart  was  sore  as  she 
watched  Priscilla  and  Conny,  her  two  dearest 
friends,  disport  themselves  regardless  of  their 
incarcerated  mate. 

It  grew  dusk;  nobody  came  to  furnish  a 

light,  and  Patty  sat  in  the  semi-darkness,  her 

head  bent  wearily  on  her  arms.     Finally  she 

heard  footsteps  in  the  hall,  and  Mi?s  Sallie 

90 


The  Virgil  Strike 

entered  and  closed  the  door  behind  her* 
Patty  braced  herself  anew;  one  needed  keen 
wits  to  match  the  "  Dragonette." 

Miss  Sallie  had  been  talking  with  Miss 
Lord,  and  she  was  inclined  to  think  that 
Patty  needed  chastisement  of  a  rare  sort ;  but 
it  was  her  practice  to  hear  both  sides.  She 
drew  up  a  chair,  and  commenced  with  busi- 
ness-like directness. 

"  See  here,  Patty,  what  is  the  meaning  of 
all  this  nonsense?  " 

Patty  raised  reproachful  eyes. 

"  Nonsense,  Miss  Sallie?" 

"  Yes,  nonsense !  Miss  Lord  says  that 
you  refused  to  learn  the  lesson  that  she  as- 
signed, and  that  you  incited  the  rest  of  the 
girls  to  mutiny.  You  are  one  of  the  most 
able  pupils  in  the  class,  and  your  failure  to 
finish  the  lesson  is  nothing  in  the  world  but 
stubbornness.  If  it  were  Rosalie  Patton 
now,  there  might  be  some  sense  in  it." 

"  I  don't  think  you  understand,"  said 
Patty  gently. 

"  It  might  be  well  for  you  to  explain,"  sug- 
gested Miss  Sallie. 


Just    Patty 

"  I  must  stand  by  my  principles." 

"By  all  means!"  Miss  Sallie  affably 
agreed.  "And  what  are  your  principles?" 

"  To  hold  out  for  sixty  lines  of  Virgil.  It 
is  n't  because  I  want  to  strike,  Miss  Sallie. 
It  would  be  much  easier  for  me  to  do  the 
eighty  lines,  but  that  would  n't  be  fair  to  Ro- 
salie. The  working  day  should  not  be 
gaged  by  the  capacity  of  the  strongest.  Miss 
Lord  will  flunk  Rosalie  if  the  rest  of  us  don't 
take  care  of  her.  Upon  the  solidarity  of 
labor  depends  the  welfare  of  the  individual 
worker.  It  is  the  fight  of  the  oppressed 
against  the  encroachments  of  —  of  —  er  — 
organized  authority." 

"  Um  —  I  see !  —  I  really  begin  to  believe 
that  you  listened  to  that  lecture,  Patty." 

"  Of  course  I  listened,"  Patty  nodded, 
"  and  I  must  say  that  I  am  awfully  disap- 
pointed in  Miss  Lord.  She  told  us  to  apply 
our  knowledge  of  sociology  to  the  problems 
of  our  daily  lives,  and  when  we  do,  she  backs 
down.  But  anyway,  we  intend  to  maintain 
the  strike,  until  she  is  ready  to  meet  our  just 
demands.  It  is  n't  through  selfish  motives 
92 


The  Virgil  Strike 

that  I  am  acting,  Miss  Sallie.  I  should  a  lot 
rather  have  something  to  eat  and  go  horse- 
back riding.  I  am  fighting  for  the  cause  of 
my  suffering  sisters." 

The  ceiling  above  shook  at  the  impact,  as 
four  of  her  suffering  sisters  came  down  on 
top  of  one  another,  while  the  walls  resounded 
with  their  shrieks  and  laughter. 

Miss  Sallie's  lips  twitched,  but  she  con- 
trolled herself  and  spoke  with  serious  gravity. 

"  Very  well,  Patty,  I  am  glad  to  know  that 
this  unprecedented  behavior  is  caused  by 
charitable  motives.  I  am  sure  that  when 
Miss  Lord  fully  understands  the  case  she  will 
feel  gratified.  Suppose  I  act  as  intermediary 
and  lay  the  matter  before  her?  We  may 
be  able  to  arrive  at  an  —  er  —  compromise." 

The  half  hour  that  followed  dinner  was 
usually  devoted  to  dancing  in  the  big  square 
hall,  but  to-night  the  girls  were  inclined  to 
stand  about  in  groups  with  furtive  glances  to- 
ward the  schoolroom.  A  conference  was 
going  on  inside.  Miss  Lord,  the  Dowager 
and  the  Dragonette  had  passed  in  and  shut 
the  door.  Kid  McCoy,  returning  from 
93 


Just    Patty 

Paradise  Alley,  where  she  had  been  stretched 
on  her  stomach  with  her  face  to  the  regis- 
ter, reported  that  Patty  had  fainted  through 
lack  of  food,  that  the  Dowager  had  revived 
her  with  whiskey,  and  that  she  had  come 
to,  still  cheering  for  the  Union.  Kid  Mc- 
Coy's statements,  however,  were  apt  to  be 
touched  by  imagination.  The  school  was  di- 
vided in  its  opinion  of  Patty's  course.  The 
scabs  were  inclined  to  make  light  of  her 
achievement,  but  Conny  and  Priscilla 
staunchly  fanned  enthusiasm. 

Finally,  the  schoolroom  door  opened,  and 
the  faculty  emerged  and  passed  into  the  Dow- 
ager's private  study,  while  the  dancing  com- 
menced with  sudden  fervor.  No  one  to-day 
liked  to  be  caught  by  Miss  Lord  whispering 
in  a  corner. 

Patty  followed  alone.  Her  face  was  pale, 
and  there  were  weary  circles  about  her  eyes, 
but  in  them  shone  the  light  of  victory. 

"  Patty!" 

"Are  you  dead?" 

"  How  5d  it  come  out?  " 

"  It  was  perfectly  splendid !  " 
94 


The  Virgil  Strike 

"Was  she  furious?" 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"  We  arbitrated  the  question  and  have  set- 
tled on  a  compromise,"  Patty  replied  with 
quiet  dignity.  "  Hereafter  the  lesson  will  be 
seventy  lines.  The  Virgil  strike  is  declared 
off." 

They  pressed  about  her  eager  for  details, 
but  she  separated  herself,  and  kept  on  toward 
the  dining-room  door.  There  was  an  aloof- 
ness about  her,  an  air  of  having  experienced 
the  heights  alone.  She  was  not  quite  ready 
to  rub  shoulders  with  common  humanity. 

The  school  settled  itself  to  evening  study, 
and  Patty  to  her  dinner.  They  could  see  her 
across  the  court,  through  the  lighted  window, 
as  she  sat  in  state  at  the  end  of  a  long  table. 
Osaki  on  one  side,  tendered  preserved  straw- 
berries, and  Maggie  on  the  other,  frosted 
cakes.  The  rewards  of  martyrdom,  in 
Patty's  case,  were  solidly  substantial. 


IV 

The  Third  Man  from 
the  End 


IV 

The  Third  Man  from 
the  End 

H,    Patty!     Did  you   bring   us 
some  wedding  cake?  " 

"  Did  you  have  any  adven- 
tures?" 

Conny  and  Priscilla,  with  the  dexterity  of 
practice,  sprang  upon  the  rear  step  of  the 
hearse  as  it  turned  in  at  the  school  gate,  and 
rolled  up  the  curving  drive  to  the  porte- 
cochere.  The  "  hearse "  was  the  popular 
name  for  the  black  varnished  wagonette 
which  conveyed  the  pupils  of  St.  Ursula's 
from  church  and  station.  It  was  planned  to 
accommodate  twenty.  Patty  and  her  suit- 
case, alone  in  the  capacious  interior,  were 
jolting  about  like  two  tiny  peas  in  a  very  big 
pod. 

99 


Just   Patty 

"  Adventures !  "  she  called  back  excitedly. 
"  Wait  till  you  hear!  " 

As  they  came  to  a  stop,  they  were  besieged 
by  a  crowd  of  blue-coated  girls.  It  was  aft- 
ernoon recreation,  and  the  whole  school  was 
abroad.  The  welcome  that  she  received, 
would  have  led  an  onlooker  to  infer  that 
Patty  had  been  gone  three  months  instead  of 
three  days.  She  and  her  two  postilions  de- 
scended, and  Martin  gathered  up  his  reins. 

"  Come  on,  y ousel  All  who  wants  a  ride 
to  the  stables,"  was  his  hospitable  invitation. 

It  inundated  him  with  passengers.  They 
crowded  inside  —  twice  as  many  as  the  hearse 
would  hold  —  they  swarmed  over  the  driver's 
seat  and  the  steps ;  and  two  equestriennes  even 
perched  themselves  on  the  horses*  backs. 

"What's  the  adventure?"  demanded 
Conny  and  Priscilla  in  a  breath,  as  the  caval- 
cade rattled  off. 

Patty  waved  her  hand  toward  the  suit- 
case. 

"  There  it  is.  Take  it  upstairs.  I  '11  be 
with  you  as  soon  as  I  Ve  reported." 

"  But  that  is  n't  your  suit-case." 
100 


The  Third  Man  from  the  End 

Patty  shook  her  head  mysteriously. 

"  If  you  tried  a  thousand  years  you  'd 
never  guess  who  owns  it." 

"Who?" 

Patty  laughed. 

"  Looks  like  a  man's,"  said  Conny. 

"  It  is." 

"  Oh,  Patty !  Don't  be  so  exasperating. 
[Where  'd  you  get  it?" 

"  Just  a  little  souvenir  that  I  picked  up. 
I  '11  tell  you  as  soon  as  I  Ve  interviewed  the 
Dowager.  Hurry,  and  slip  in  while  Jelly 
is  n't  looking." 

They  cast  a  quick  glance  over  their  shoul- 
ders toward  the  gymnasium  instructor,  who 
was  arguing  fat  Irene  McCullough  into 
faster  movements  on  the  tennis  court.  Miss 
Jellings  was  insistent  that  "  recreation " 
should  be  actively  pursued  out  of  doors.  The 
two  could  easily  have  obtained  permission  to 
greet  Patty's  return  inside;  but  it  was  the 
policy  of  the  trio  never  to  ask  permission  in 
minor  matters.  It  wasted  one's  credit  un- 
necessarily. 

Priscilla  and  Conny  turned  upstairs  lug- 
101 


Just    Patty 

ging  the  suit-case  between  them,  while  Patty 
approached  the  principal's  study.  Ten  min- 
utes later  she  joined  her  companions  in  Seven, 
Paradise  Alley.  They  were  sitting  on  the 
bed,  their  chins  in  their  hands,  studying  the 
suit-case  propped  on  a  chair  before  them. 

"Well?"  they  inquired  in  a  breath. 

"  She  says  she  's  glad  to  see  me  back,  and 
hopes  I  didn't  eat  too  much  wedding  cake. 
If  my  lessons  show  any  falling  off  — " 

"Who  owns  it?" 

"  The  man  with  the  black  eyebrows  and 
the  dimple  in  his  chin  who  sang  the  funny 
songs  third  from  the  end  on  the  right  hand 
side." 

"Jermyn  Hilliard,  Junior?"  Priscilla 
asked  breathlessly. 

"  Not  really?  "  Conny  laid  her  hand  on 
her  heart  with  an  exaggerated  sigh. 

"Truly  and  honest!"  Patty  turned  it 
over  and  pointed  to  the  initials  on  the  end, 
"  J-  H.,  Jr." 

"It  is  his!"  cried  Priscilla. 

"  Where  on  earth  did  you  get  it,  Patty?  " 

uls  it  locked?" 

IO2 


The  Third  Man  from  the  End 

"  Yes,"  Patty  nodded,  "  but  my  key  opens 


it." 


''What's  in  it?" 

"  Oh,  a  dress  suit,  and  collars,  and  —  and 
things." 

"  Where  'd  you  get  it?" 

"  Well,"  said  Patty  languidly,  "  it 's  a  long 
story.  I  don't  know  that  I  have  time  before 
study  hour — " 

"  Oh,  tell  us,  please.  I  think  you  're 
beastly!" 

"  Well  —  the  glee  club  was  last  Thursday 
night." 

They  nodded  impatiently  at  this  useless 
piece  of  information. 

"  And  it  was  Friday  morning  that  I  left. 
!As  I  was  listening  to  the  Dowager's  parting 
remarks  about  being  inconspicuous  and  re- 
flecting credit  on  the  school  by  my  nice  man- 
ners, Martin  sent  in  word  that  Princess  was 
lame  and  couldn't  be  driven.  So  instead  of 
going  to  the  station  in  the  hearse,  I  went  with 
Mam'selle  in  the  trolley  car.  When  we  got 
in,  it  was  cram  full  of  men.  The  entire  Yale 
Glee  Club  was  going  to  the  station!  There 
103 


Just   Patty 


were  so  many  of  them  that  they  were  sitting 
in  each  other's  laps.  The  whole  top  layer 
rose,  and  said  perfectly  gravely  and  politely: 
'  Madame,  take  my  seat.' 

"  Mam'selle  was  outraged.  She  said  in 
French,  which  of  course  they  all  understood, 
that  she  thought  American  college  boys  had 
disgraceful  manners ;  but  I  smiled  a  little  — 
I  could  n't  help  it,  they  were  so  funny.  And 
then  two  of  the  bottom  ones  offered  their? 
seats,  and  we  sat  down.  And  you  '11  never 
believe  it,  but  the  third  man  from  the  end 
was  sitting  right  next  to  me!  " 

"Not  really?" 

"Oh,  Patty!" 

u  Is  he  as  good-looking  near  to,  as  he  was 
on  the  stage?" 

"  Better." 

"  Are  those  his  real  eyebrows  or  were  they 
blacked?" 

"  They  looked  real  but  I  could  n't  ex- 
amine them  closely." 

"  Of  course  they  're  real !  "  said  Conny 
indignantly. 

"And  what  do  you  think?"  Patty  de* 
104 


The  Third   Man   from   the  End 

manded.  "  They  were  going  on  my  train. 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  coincidence  ?  " 

"  What  did  Mam'selle  think  of  that?  " 

"  She  was  as  flustered  as  an  old  hen  with 
one  chicken.  She  put  me  in  charge  of  the 
conductor  with  so  many  instructions,  that  I 
know  he  felt  like  a  newly  engaged  nurse- 
maid. The  Glee  Club  men  rode  in  the 
smoking-car,  except  Jermyn  Hilliard,  Junior, 
and  he  followed  me  right  into  the  parlor 
car  and  sat  down  in  the  chair  exactly  oppo- 
site^ 

"Patty!"  they  cried  in  shocked  chorus. 
"  You  surely  didn't  speak  to  him?  " 

"  Of  course  not.  I  looked  out  of  the 
window  and  pretended  he  was  n't  there." 

"Oh!"  Conny  murmured  disappointedly. 

"Then  what  happened?"  Priscilla  asked. 

"  Nothing  at  all.  I  got  out  at  Cooms* 
dale,  and  Uncle  Tom  met  me  with  the  automo- 
bile. The  chauffeur  took  my  suit-case  fron| 
the  porter  and  I  did  n't  see  it  near  to  at  all. 
We  reached  the  house  just  at  tea  time,  and 
I  went  straight  in  to  tea  without  going  up- 
stairs. The  butler  took  up  my  suit-case  and 
105 


Just    Patty 

the  maid  came  and  asked  for  the  key  so  she 
could  unpack.  That  house  is  simply  run- 
ning over  with  servants ;  I  sin  always  scared 
to  death  for  fear  I  '11  do  something  that  they 
won't  think  is  proper. 

"  All  the  ushers  and  bridesmaids  were 
there,  and  everything  was  very  jolly,  only 
I  could  n't  make  out  what  they  were  talk- 
ing about  half  the  time,  because  they  all  knew 
each  other  and  had  a  lot  of  jokes  I  could  n't 
understand." 

Conny  nodded  feelingly. 

"  That 's  the  way  they  acted  at  the  seaside 
last  summer.  I  think  grown  people  have 
horrid  manners." 

"  I  did  feel  sort  of  young,"  Patty  acknowl- 
edged. "  One  of  the  men  brought  me  some 
tea  and  asked  what  I  was  studying  in  school. 
He  was  trying  to  obey  Louise  and  amuse 
little  cousin,  but  he  was  thinking  all  the  time, 
what  an  awful  bore  it  was  talking  to  a  girl 
with  her  hair  braided." 

"  I  told  you  to  put  it  up,"  said  Priscilla. 

"  Just  wait !  "  said  Patty  portentously. 
14  When  I  went  upstairs  to  dress  for  dinner, 
106 


The  Third  Man  from   the  End 

the  maid  met  me  in  the  hall  with  her  eyes 
popping  out  of  her  head. 

"  '  Beg  pardon,  Miss  Patty,'  she  said. 
*  But  is  that  your  suit-case  ?  ' 

":  *  Yes,'  I  said,  '  of  course  it 's  my  suit- 
case. What's  the  matter  with  it?' 

"  She  just  waved  her  hand  toward  the 
table  and  did  n't  say  a  word.  And  there  it 
was,  wide  open!  " 

Patty  took  a  key  from  her  pocket,  un- 
locked the  suit-case,  and  threw  back  the  lid. 
A  man's  dress  suit  was  neatly  folded  on  the 
top,  with  a  pipe,  a  box  of  cigarettes,  some 
collars,  and  various  other  masculine  trifles 
filling  in  the  interstices. 

"  Oh!  "  they  gasped  in  breathless  chorus. 

"  They  belong  to  him,"  Conny  murmured 
fervently. 

Patty  nodded 

"And  when  I  showed  Uncle  Tom  that 
suit-case,  he  nearly  died  laughing.  He  tele- 
phoned to  the  station,  but  they  did  n't  know 
anything  about  it,  and  I  didn't  know  where 
the  glee  club  was  going  to  perform,  so  we 
could  n't  telegraph  Mr.  Hilliard.  Uncle 
107 


Just   Patty 


Tom  lives  five  miles  from  town,  and  there 
simply  was  n't  anything  we  could  do  that 
night." 

"  And  just  imagine  his  feelings  when  he 
started  to  dress  for  the  concert,  and  found 
Patty's  new  pink  evening  gown  spread  out  on 
top!  "  suggested  Priscilla. 

"  Oh,  Patty !  Do  you  s'pose  he  opened 
it?  "  asked  Conny. 

"  I  'm  afraid  he  did.  The  cases  are 
exact  twins,  and  the  keys  both  seem  to  fit." 

"I  hope  it  looked  all  right?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  looked  beautiful.  Every- 
thing was  trimmed  with  pink  ribbon.  I  at/ 
ways  pack  with  an  eye  to  the  maid,  when  I 
visit  Uncle  Tom." 

"  But  the  dinner  and  the  wedding?  What 
did  you  do  without  your  clothes  ? "  asked 
Priscilla,  in  rueful  remembrance  of  many 
trips  to  the  dressmaker's. 

"That  was  the  best  part  of  it!"  Patty 
affirmed.  "  Miss  Lord  simply  would  n't 
let  me  get  a  respectable  evening  gown.  She 
went  with  me  herself,  and  told  Miss  Pringle 
how  to  make  it  —  just  like  all  my  dancing 
108 


The  Third  Man  from  the  End 

dresses,  nine  inches  off  the  floor,  with  elbow 
sleeves  and  a  silly  sash.  I  hated  it  anyway." 

"  You  must  remember  you  are  a  school 
girl,"  Conny  quoted,  "and  until — " 

"Just  wait  till  I  tell  you!"  Patty  tri- 
umphed. "  Louise  brought  me  one  of  her 
dresses  —  one  of  her  very  best  ball  gowns, 
only  she  was  n't  going  to  wear  it  any  more, 
because  she  had  all  new  clothes  in  her  trous- 
seau. It  was  white  crepe  embroidered  in 
gold  spangles,  and  it  had  a  train.  It  was 
long  in  front,  too.  I  had  to  walk  without 
lifting  my  feet.  The  maid  came  and  dressed 
me;  she  did  my  hair  up  on  top  of  my  head 
with  a  gold  fillet,  and  Aunt  Emma  loaned  me 
a  pearl  necklace  and  some  long  gloves  and  I 
looked  perfectly  beautiful  —  I  did,  honestly 
' —  you  would  n't  have  known  me.  I  looked 
at  least  twenty! 

"The  man  who  took  me  in  to  dinner 
never  dreamed  that  I  hadn't  been  out  for 
years.  And  you  know,  he  tried  to  flirt  with 
me,  he  did,  really.  And  he  was  getting  aw- 
fully old.  He  must  have  been  almost  forty. 
I  felt  as  though  I  were  flirting  with  my  grand- 
IOQ 


Just   Patty 

father.  You  know,"  Patty  added,  "  it  isn't 
so  bad,  being  grown  up.  I  believe  you 
really  do  have  sort  of  a  good  time  —  if 
you  're  pretty." 

Six  eyes  sought  the  mirror  for  a  reflective 
moment,  before  Patty  resumed  her  chronicle. 

"  And  Uncle  Tom  made  me  tell  about  the 
suit-case  at  the  dinner  table.  Everybody 
laughed.  It  made  a  very  exciting  story.  I 
told  them  about  the  whole  school  going  to 
the  Glee  Club,  and  falling  in  love  in  a  body 
with  the  third  man  from  the  end,  and  how 
we  all  cut  his  picture  out  of  the  program  and 
pasted  it  in  our  watches.  And  then  about 
my  sitting  across  from  him  in  the  train  and 
changing  suit-cases.  Mr.  Harper  —  the 
man  next  to  me  —  said  it  was  the  most  ro- 
mantic thing  he'd  ever  heard  in  his  life; 
that  Louise's  marriage  was  nothing  to  it." 

"  But  about  the  suit-case,"  they  prompted. 
"Didn't  you  do  anything  more?" 

"  Uncle    Tom    telephoned    again    in    the 

morning,  and  the  station  agent  said  he  'd  got 

the  party  on  the  wire  as  had  the  young  lady's 

case.     And  he  was  coming  back  here  in  two 

no 


The  Third   Man  from   the  End 

days,  and  I  was  to  leave  his  suit-case  with 
the  baggage  man  at  the  station,  and  he  would 
leave  mine." 

"  But  you  did  n't  leave  it." 

"  I  came  on  the  other  road.  I  'm  going 
to  send  it  down." 

"  And  what  did  you  wear  at  the  wed- 
ding?" 

"  Louise's  clothes.  It  did  n't  matter  a 
bit,  my  not  matching  the  other  bridesmaids, 
because  I  was  maid  of  honor,  and  ought  to 
dress  differently  anyway.  I  've  been  grown 
up  for  three  days  —  and  I  just  wish  Miss 
Lord  could  have  seen  me  with  my  hair  on  the 
top  of  my  head  talking  to  men !  " 

"  Did  you  tell  the  Dowager?  " 

"  Yes,  I  told  her  about  getting  the  wrong 
suit-case;  I  didn't  mention  the  fact  that  it 
belonged  to  the  third  man  from  the  end." 

"  What  did  she  say?" 

"  She  said  it  was  very  careless  of  me  to 
run  off  with  a  strange  man's  luggage;  and 
she  hoped  he  was  a  gentleman  and  would 
take  it  nicely.  She  telephoned  to  the  bag- 
gage man  that  it  was  here,  but  she  could  n't 
in 


Just    Patty 


send  Martin  with  it  this  afternoon  because 
he  had  to  go  to  the  farm  for  some  eggs," 

Recreation  was  over,  and  the  girls  came 
trooping  in  to  gather  books  and  pads  and 
pencils  for  the  approaching  study  hour. 
Everyone  who  passed  number  Seven  dropped 
in  to  hear  the  news.  Each  in  turn  received 
the  story  of  the  suit-case,  and  each  in  turn 
gasped  anew  at  sight  of  the  contents. 

"  Does  n't  it  smell  tobaccoey  and  bay  rum- 
mish?  "  said  Rosalie  Patton,  ecstatically  snif- 
fing. 

"  Oh,  there  's  a  button  loose !  "  cried  Flor- 
ence Hissop,  the  careful  housewife. 
11  Where  's  some  black  silk,  Patty?  " 

She  threaded  a  needle  and  secured  the 
button.  Then  she  daringly  tried  on  the 
coat.  Eight  others  followed  her  example 
and  thrilled  at  the  touch.  It  was  calculated 
to  fit  a  far  larger  person  than  any  present. 
Even  Irene  McCullough  found  it  baggy. 

"  He  had  awfully  broad  shoulders,"  said 
Rosalie,  stroking  the  satin  lining. 

They  peered  daintily  at  the  other  gar- 
ments. 

112 


The  Third  Man  from  the  End 

"  Oh !  "  squealed  Mae  Mertelle.  "  He 
wears  blue  silk  suspenders." 

"  And  something  else  blue,"  chirped  Edna 
Hartwell,  peering  over  her  shoulder. 
;<  They  're  pajamas !  " 

11  And  to  think  of  such  a  thing  happening 
to  Patty!  "  sighed  Mae  Mertelle. 

".Why  not?"  bristled  Patty. 

1  You  're  so  young  and  so  —  er  — " 

"  Young !  —  Wait  till  you  see  me  with 
my  hair  done  up." 

"  I  wonder  what  the  end  will  be?  "  asked 
Rosalie. 

"  The  end,"  said  Mae  unkindly,  "  will  be 
that  the  baggage  man  will  deliver  the  suit- 
case, and  Jermyn  Hilliard,  Junior,  will  never 
know  — " 

A  maid  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  If  you  please,"  she  murmured,  her 
amazed  eyes  on  Irene  who  was  still  wearing 
the  coat,  "  Mrs.  Trent  would  like  to  have 
Miss  Patty  Wyatt  come  to  the  drawing- 
room,  and  I  am  to  take  the  suit-case  down. 
3The  gentleman  is  waiting." 

113 


Just    Patty 


"Oh,  Patty  I"  a  gasp  went  around  the 
room. 

11  Do  your  hair  up  —  quick !  " 

Priscilla  caught  Patty's  twin  braids  and 
wound  them  around  her  head,  while  the  oth- 
ers in  a  flutter  of  excitement,  thrust  in  the 
coat  and  relocked  the  suit-case. 

They  crowded  after  her  in  a  body  and 
hung  over  the  banisters  at  a  perilous  angle, 
straining  their  ears  in  the  direction  of  the 
drawing-room.  Nothing  but  a  murmur  of 
voices  floated  up,  punctuated  by  an  occa- 
sional deep  bass  laugh.  When  they  heard 
the  front  door  close,  with  one  accord  they 
invaded  Harriet  Gladden's  room,  which  com- 
manded the  walk,  and  pressed  their  noses 
against  the  pane.  A  short,  thick-set  man  of 
German  build  was  waddling  toward  the  gate 
and  the  trolley  car.  They  gazed  with  wide, 
horrified  eyes,  and  turned  without  a  word  to 
meet  Patty  as  she  trudged  upstairs  lugging 
her  errant  suit-case.  A  glance  told  her  that 
they  had  seen,  and  dropping  on  the  top  step, 
she  leaned  her  head  against  the  railing  and 
laughed. 

114 


The  Third  Man  from  the  End 

"  His  name,"  she  choked,  "  is  John 
Hochstetter,  Jr.  He  's  a  wholesale  grocer, 
and  was  on  his  way  to  a  grocers'  convention, 
where  he  was  to  make  a  speech  comparing 
American  cheese  with  imported  cheese.  He 
didn't  mind  at  all  not  having  his  dress  suit 
—  never  feels  comfortable  in  it  anyway,  he 
says.  He  explained  to  the  convention  why 
he  did  n't  have  it  on,  and  it  made  the  fun- 
niest speech  of  the  evening.  There 's  the 
study  bell." 

Patty  rose  and  turned  toward  Paradise 
Alley,  but  paused  to  throw  back  a  further 
detail : 

u  He  has  a  dear  little  daughter  of  his  own 
just  my  age !  " 


V 

The   Flannigan  Honey- 


moon 


The  Flannigan  Honey- 
moon 


M 
iff  jpyp 


HE  Murphy  family,  with  a 
judicious  eye  to  the  buttered 
side  of  the  bread,  had  adopted 
Saint  Ursula  as  their  patron 
saint.  (The  family  —  consisting  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Patrick  Murphy,  eleven  little  Murphys 
and  "  Gramma  "  Flannigan  —  occupied  a 
five-room  cottage  close  to  the  gates  of  St. 
Ursula's  school.  They  subsisted  on  the  vi- 
carious charity  of  sixty-four  girls,  and  the 
intermittent  labor  of  Murphy  pere,  who,  in 
his  sober  intervals,  was  a  sufficiently  efficient 
stone-cutter  and  mason. 

He  had  built  the  big  entrance  gates,  and 
the   long   stone  wall  that   caclosed   the   ten 
acres  of  "  bounds."     He  kad  laid  the  foun- 
119 


Just    Patty 

dation  of  the  new  west  wing  —  known  as 
Paradise  Alley  —  and  had  constructed  all 
the  chimneys  and  driveways  and  tennis  courts 
on  the  place.  The  school  was  a  monument 
to  his  long  and  leisurely  career. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Murphy,  with  an  unusual 
display  of  foresight,  had  christened  their 
first  baby  after  the  school.  Ursula  Murphy 
may  not  be  a  euphuistic  combination,  but  the 
child  was  amply  repaid  for  carrying  such  a 
name,  by  receiving  the  cast-off  clothes  of  gen- 
erations of  St.  Ursula  girls.  There  was  dan- 
ger, for  a  time,  that  the  poor  little  thing 
would  be  buried  beneath  a  mountain  of  wear- 
ing apparel;  but  her  parents  providentially 
discovered  a  second-hand  clothes  man,  who 
relieved  her  of  a  part  of  the  burden. 

After  Ursula,  had  come  other  little 
Murphys  in  regular  succession;  and  it  had 
grown  to  be  one  of  the  legendary  privileges 
of  the  school  to  furnish  the  babies  with 
names  and  baptismal  presents.  Mrs.  Mur- 
phy was  not  entirely  mercenary  in  her  yearly 
request.  She  appreciated  the  artistic  quality 
of  the  names  that  the  girls  provided.  They 
1 20 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

had  a  distinction,  that  she  herself,  with  her 
lack  of  literary  training,  would  never  have 
been  able  to  give.  The  choosing  of  the 
names  had  come  to  be  a  matter  involving 
politics  almost  as  complicated  as  the  election 
of  the  senior  president.  Different  factions 
proposed  different  names ;  half-a-dozen  tickets 
would  be  in  the  field,  and  the  balloting  was 
conducted  with  rousing  speeches. 

There  was  one  hampering  restriction. 
Every  baby  must  have  a  patron  saint.  Upon 
this  point,  the  Murphys  stood  firm.  How- 
ever, by  a  careful  study  of  early  Christian 
martyrs,  the  girls  had  managed  to  unearth 
a  list  of  recondite  saints  with  fairly  unusual 
and  picturesque  names. 

So  far,  the  role  of  the  Murphy  offspring 
read: 

Ursula  Marie,  Geraldine  Sabina,  Muriel 
Veronica  and  Lionel  Ambrose  ( twins )» 
Aileen  Clotilda,  John  Drew  Dominick,  Del- 
phine  Olivia,  Patrick  (he  had  been  born  in 
the  summer  vacation,  and  the  long-suffering 
priest  had  insisted  that  the  boy  be  named 
for  his  father),  Sidney  Orlando  Boniface, 
121 


Just    Patty 


Richard  Harding  Gabriel,  Yolanda  Gene- 
vieve.  This  completed  the  list,  until  one 
morning  early  in  December,  Patrick  Senior 
presented  himself  at  the  kitchen  door,  with 
the  news  that  another  name  —  a  boy's  — 
would  be  seasonable. 

The  school  immediately  went  into  a  com- 
mittee of  the  whole.  Several  names  had 
been  put  up,  and  the  discussion  was  growing 
heated,  when  Patty  Wyatt  jumped  to  her 
feet  with  the  proposal  of  "  Cuthbert  St. 
John."  The  suggestion  was  met  with 
cheers;  and  Mae  Van  Arsdale  indignantly 
left  the  room.  The  name  was  carried  by 
unanimous  vote. 

Cuthbert  St.  John  Murphy  was  christened 
the  following  Sunday,  and  received  a  gold- 
lined  porridge  spoon  in  a  green  plush  box. 

So  delighted  was  the  school  at  Patty's 
felicitous  suggestion,  that,  by  way  of  re- 
ward, they  elected  her  chairman  of  the  Christ- 
mas Carnival  Committee.  The  Christmas 
Carnival  was  a  charitable  institution  con- 
temporaneous with  the  founding  of  the 
school.  St.  Ursula's  scheme  of  education 
122 


The  Flannigan   Honeymoon 

was  broad;  it  involved  growth  in  a  wide 
variety  of  womanly  virtues,  and  the  greatest 
of  these  was  charity.  Not  the  modern, 
scientific,  machine-made  charity,  but  the  com- 
fortable, old-fashioned  kind  that  leaves  a 
pleasant  glow  of  generosity  in  the  heart  of 
the  giver.  Every  year  at  Christmastide  a 
tree  was  decked,  a  supper  laid,  and  the  poor 
children  of  the  neighborhood  bidden  to  par- 
take. The  poor  children  were  collected  by 
the  school  girls,  who  drove  about  from  house 
to  house,  in  bob-sleighs  or  hay-wagons,  ac- 
cording to  the  snow.  The  girls  regarded  it 
as  the  most  diverting  festival  of  the  school 
year;  and  even  the  poor  children,  when  they 
had  overcome  their  first  embarrassment, 
found  it  fairly  diverting. 

The  original  scheme  had  been  for  eacK 
girl  to  have  an  individual  protege,  that  she 
might  call  upon  the  family  and  come  into 
personal  relations  with  a  humbler  class.  She 
was  to  learn  the  special  needs  of  her  child, 
and  give  something  really  useful,  such  as 
stockings  or  trousers  or  flannel  petticoats. 

It  was  an  admirable  scheme  on  paper,  but 
123 


Just   Patty 

in  actual  practice  it  fell  down.  St.  Ursula's 
was  situated  in  an  affluent  district  given  over 
to  the  estates  of  the  idle  rich,  and  the  prol- 
etarian who  clung  to  the  skirts  of  these  es- 
tates was  amply  provided  with  an  opportu- 
nity to  work.  In  the  early  days,  when  the 
school  was  small,  there  had  been  sufficient 
poor  children  to  go  round;  but  as  St.  Ur- 
sula's had  grown,  the  poor  seemed  to  have 
diminished,  until  now  the  school  was  con- 
fronted by  an  actual  scarcity.  But  the  Mur- 
phys,  at  least,  they  had  always  with  them. 
They  yearly  offered  thanks  for  this. 

Patty  accepted  her  chairmanship  and  ap- 
pointed sub-committees  to  do  the  actual 
work.  For  herself  and  Conny  and  Priscilla 
she  reserved  the  privilege  of  choosing  the 
recipients  of  St.  Ursula's  bounty.  This  en- 
tailed several  exhilarating  afternoons  out 
of  bounds.  A  walk  abroad  is  as  inspiring  to 
the  inmates  of  a  prison  as  a  trip  through 
Europe  to  those  at  large.  They  spent  the 
better  part  of  a  week  canvassing  the  neigh- 
borhood, only  to  reveal  the  embarrassing  fact 
that  there  were  nine  possible  children,  aside 
124 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

from  the  Murphy  brood,  and  that  none  of 
these  nine  were  from  homes  that  one  could 
conscientiously  term  poor.  The  children's 
sober  industrious  parents  could  well  supply 
their  temperate  Christmas  demands. 

"  And  there  are  only  six  Murphys  the 
right  age,"  Conny  grumbled,  as  they  turned 
homewards  in  the  cold  twilight  of  a  wintry 
day,  after  an  unprofitable  two  hours'  tramp. 

"  That  makes  about  one  child  to  every 
five  girls,"  Priscilla  nodded  dismally. 

"  Oh,  this  charity  business  makes  me 
tired!"  Patty  burst  out.  "It's  fun  for 
the  girls,  and  nothing  else.  The  way  we 
dole  out  stuff  to  perfectly  nice  people,  is  just 
plain  insulting.  If  anybody  poked  a  pink 
tarlatan  stocking  full  of  candy  at  me,  and 
said  it  was  because  I  'd  been  a  good  little 
girl,  I  'd  throw  it  in  their  face." 

In  moments  of  intensity,  Patty's  English 
was  not  above  reproach. 

"  Come    on,    Patty,"    Priscilla    slipped    a 
soothing  hand  through  her  arm,  "  we  '11  stop 
in  at  the  Murphys'  and  count  'em  over  again. 
Maybe  there  's  one  we  overlooked." 
125 


Just    Patty 

"  The  twins  are  only  fifteen,"  said  Conny 
hopefully.  "  I  think  they  '11  do." 

"  And  Richard  Harding 's  nearly  four. 
He  's  old  enough  to  enjoy  a  tree.  The  more 
Murphys  we  can  get  the  better.  They  al- 
ways love  the  things  we  give." 

"I  know  they  do!"  Patty  growled. 
"  We  're  teaching  the  whole  lot  of  them  to 
be  blooming  beggars  —  I  shall  be  sorry  I 
ever  used  any  slang,  if  we  can't  put  the  money 
to  better  use  than  this." 

The  funds  for  the  carnival  were  yearly 
furnished  by  a  tax  on  slang.  St.  Ursula  de- 
manded a  fine  of  one  cent  for  every  instance 
of  slang  or  bad  grammar  let  fall  in  public. 
Of  course,  in  the  privacy  of  one's  own  room, 
in  the  bosom  of  one's  chosen  family,  the  rigor 
was  relaxed.  Your  dearest  friends  did  not 
report  you  —  except  in  periods  of  estrange- 
ment. But  your  acquaintances  and  enemies 
and  teachers  did,  and  even,  in  moments  of 
intense  honorableness,  you  reported  yourself. 
In  any  case,  the  slang  fund  grew.  When  the 
committee  had  opened  the  box  this  year,  they 
126 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

found  thirty-seven   dollars   and   eighty-four 
cents. 

Patty  allowed  herself,  after  some  slight 
protest,  to  be  drawn  to  the  door  of  the  Mur- 
phy domicile.  She  was  not  in  an  affable 
mood,  and  a  call  upon  the  Murphys  required 
a  great  deal  of  conversation.  They  found 
the  family  hilariously  assembled  in  an  over- 
crowded kitchen.  The  entire  dozen  chil- 
dren babbled  at  once,  shriller  and  shriller, 
in  a  vain  endeavor  to  drown  each  other  out. 
A  cabbage  stew,  in  progress  on  the  stove, 
filled  the  room  with  an  odorous  steam. 
Shoved  into  a  corner  of  the  hearth,  was  poor 
old  Gramma  Flannigan,  surrounded  by 
noisy,  pushing  youngsters,  who  showed  her 
gray  hairs  but  scant  consideration.  The: 
girls  admired  the  new  baby,  while  Yolanda. 
and  Richard  Harding  crawled  over  their- 
laps  with  sticky  hands.  Mrs.  Murphy,, 
meanwhile,  discanted  in  a  rich  brogue  upon; 
the  merits  of  "  Coothbert  St.  Jawn  "  as  at 
name.  She  liked  it,  she  declared,  as  well  as 
any  in  the  list.  It  sure  ought  to  bring  luck 
127 


Just    Patty 

to  a  child  to  carry  the  name  of  two  saints* 
She  thanked  the  young  ladies  kindly. 

Patty  left  Conny  and  Priscilla  to  carry 
off  the  social  end  of  the  call,  while  she 
squeezed  herself  onto  the  woodbox  by 
Gramma  Flannigan's  chair.  Mrs.  Mur- 
phy's mother  was  a  pathetic  old  body,  with 
the  winning  speech  and  manners  of  Ireland 
a  generation  ago.  Patty  found  her  the  most 
remunerative  member  of  the  household,  so 
far  as  interest  went.  She  always  liked  to 
get  her  started  with  stories  of  her  girlhood, 
when  she  had  been  a  lady's  maid  in  Lord 
Stirling's  castle  in  County  Clare,  and  young 
Tammas  Flannigan  came  and  carried  her 
off  to  America  to  help  make  his  fortune. 
Tammas  was  now  a  bent  old  man  with  rheu- 
matism, but  in  his  keen  blue  eyes  and  Irish 
smile,  Gramma  still  saw  the  lad  who  had 
courted  her. 

"  How 's  your  husband  this  winter? " 
Patty  asked,  knowing  that  she  was  taking 
the  shortest  road  to  the  old  woman's  heart. 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  tremulous 
smile. 

128 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

"  I  'm  not  hearin'  for  four  days.  Tammas 
ain*t  livin'  with-  us  no  more." 

"It's  a  pity  for  you  to  be  separated!'* 
said  Patty,  with  quick  sympathy,  not  realiz- 
ing on  how  sore  a  subject  she  was  touching. 

The  flood  gates  of  the  old  woman's  gar- 
rulity broke  down. 

"  With  Ursuly  an'  Ger-r-aldine  growin' 
oop  an'  havin'  young  min  to  wait  on  thim, 
'twas  needin'  a  parlor  they  was,  an'  they 
could  n't  spare  the  room  no  longer  for  me  'n 
Tammas.  So  they  put  me  in  the  garret  with 
the  four  gurrls,  an'  Tammas,  he  was  sint 
oop  the  road  to  me  son  Tammas.  Tam- 
mas's  wife  said  as  Tammas  could  sleep  in 
the  kitchen  to  pay  for  carryin'  the  wood  an' 
watter,  but  she  could  n't  take  us  both  be- 
cause she  takes  boarders." 

Patty  cocked  her  head  for  a  moment  of 
silence,  as  she  endeavored  to  pluck  sense 
from  this  tangle  of  Tammases. 

"  It's  too  bad!  "  she  comforted,  laying  a 
sympathetic  hand  on  the  old  woman's  knee. 

Gramma  Flannigan's  eyes  filled  with  the 
ready  tears  of  old  age. 
9  129 


Just   Patty 

"  1 'm  not  complaining  for  it 's  the  way 
v'  the  world.  The  owld  must  step  off,  an' 
make  room  for  the  young.  But  it 's  lonely 
I  am  without  him !  We  Ve  lived  together 
for  forty-seven  years,  an'  we  know  each  oth- 
er's ways." 

"  But  your  son  does  n't  live  very  far 
away."  Patty  offered  what  solace  she 
might.  "  You  must  see  Thomas  very  often." 

"That  an'  I  don't!  You  might  as  well 
have  a  husband  dead,  as  a  mile  an'  a  half 
away  an'  laid  oop  with  rheumatism." 

The  clock  pointed  to  a  quarter  of  six,  and 
the  visitors  rose.  They  had  still  to  walk 
half  a  mile  and  dress  before  dinner. 

The  old  woman  clung  to  Patty's  hand  at 
parting.  She  seemed  to  find  more  comfort 
in  the  little  stray  sympathy  that  Patty  had 
offered,  than  in  all  her  exuberant  brood  of 
grandchildren. 

"  Is  n't  it  dreadful  to  be  old,  and  just  sit 
around  waiting  to  die?"  Patty  shuddered, 
as  they  faced  the  cold  darkness  outside. 

41  Dreadful !  "  Conny  cordially  agreed. 
130 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

"  Hurry  up  I     Or  we  '11  be  late  for  dinner, 
and  this  is  chicken  night. " 
{     They  turned  homeward  at  a  jog  trot  that 
left  little  breath  for  speech;  but  Patty's  mind 
was  working  as  fast  as  her  legs. 

"  I  Ve  got  a  perfectly  splendid  idea/'  she 
panted  as  she  turned  in  at  the  gate  and 
trotted  up  the  driveway  toward  the  big 
lighted  house  that  spread  wide  wings  to  re- 
ceive them. 

"What?"  they  asked. 

The  quick  insistent  clang  of  the  gong 
floated  out  to  meet  them,  and  on  the  instant, 
hurrying  figures  flitted  past  the  windows  — 
the  summons  to  meals  brought  a  readier  re- 
sponse than  the  summons  to  study. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  after  dinner.  No  time 
now,"  Patty  returned  as  she  peeled  off  her 
coat. 

They  were  unlacing  their  blouses  as  they 
clattered  up  the  back  stairs,  and  pulling  them 
over  their  heads  in  the  upper  hall. 

"Go  slow  —  please!"  they  implored  of 
the  down-going  procession  whose  track  they 


Just   Patty 

crossed.  Dinner  was  the  only  meal  which 
might  be.  approached  by  the  front  stairs, 
which  were  carpeted  instead  of  tinned. 

Their  evening  frocks  were  fortunately  in 
one  piece,  and  they  dove  into  them  with  lit- 
tle ceremony.  The  three  presented  them- 
selves flushed  of  cheek  and  somewhat 
rumpled  as  to  hair,  but  properly  gowned  and 
apologetic,  just  as  grace  was  ended.  To  be 
late  for  grace  only  meant  one  demerit;  the 
first  course  came  higher,  and  the  second 
higher  still.  Punishment  increased  by  geo- 
metrical progression. 

During  the  half  hour's  intermission  be- 
fore evening  study,  the  three  separated  them- 
selves from  the  dancers  in  the  hall,  and  with- 
drew to  a  corner  of  the  deserted  schoolroom. 

Patty  perched  herself  on  a  desk,  and 
loudly  stated  her  feelings. 

"  I  'm  tired  of  having  the  Dowager  get 
up  at  prayers,  and  make  a  speech  about  the 
beautiful  Christmas  spirit,  and  how  sweet 
it  is  to  make  so  many  little  children  happy, 
when  she  knows  perfectly  well  that  it 's  just 
132 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

a  lark  for  us.  I  'm  chairman  this  year  and 
I  can  do  as  I  please.  I  've  had  enough  of 
this  fake  charity ;  and  I  'm  not  going  to  have 
any  Christmas  tree  I  " 

"  No  Christmas  tree?"  Conny  echoed 
blankly. 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  the 
thirty-seven  dollars  and  eighty- four  cents?  " 
asked  Priscilla,  the  practical. 

"  Listen !  "  Patty  settled  to  her  argument. 
;t  There  are  n't  any  children  around  here  who 
need  a  blessed  thing,  but  Gramma  and 
Granpa  Flannigan  do.  That  poor  old 
woman,  who  is  just  as  nice  as  she  can  be,  is 
crowded  in  with  all  those  horrid,  yelling, 
sticky  little  Murphys;  and  Granpa  Flanni- 
gan is  poked  into  Tammas  Junior's  kitchen, 
running  errands  for  Tammas  Junior's  wife, 
who  is  a  per-fect-ly  terrible  woman.  She 
throws  kettles  when  she  gets  mad.  Gramma 
worries  all  the  time  for  fear  he  has  rheuma- 
tism, and  nobody  to  rub  on  liniment,  or  make 
him  wear  the  right  underclothes.  They  Ve 
exactly  as  fond  of  each  other  as  any  other 
133 


Just   Patty 

husband  and  wife,  and  just  because  Ursula 
wants  to  have  callers,  I  say  it 's  a  mean 
shame  for  them  to  be  separated  1" 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  Conny  agreed  impar- 
tially. "  But  I  don't  see  that  we  can  help  it." 

"  Why,  yes !  Instead  of  having  a  Christ- 
mas tree,  we  '11  rent  that  empty  little  cottage 
down  by  the  laurel  walk,  and  mend  the  chim- 
ney —  Patrick  can  do  that  for  nothing  — 
and  put  in  new  windows,  and  furnish  it,  and 
set  them  up  in  housekeeping." 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  do  it  for  thirty- 
seven  dollars  and  eighty-four  cents?"  Pris- 
cilla  asked. 

'That's  where  the  charity  comes  in! 
Every  girl  in  school  will  go  without  her  al- 
lowance for  two  weeks.  Then  we  '11  have 
more  than  a  hundred  dollars,  and  you  can 
furnish  a  house  perfectly  beautifully  for 
that.  And  it  would  be  real  charity  to  give 
up  our  allowances,  because  they  are  particu- 
larly useful  at  Christmas  time." 

"  But  will  the  girls  want  to  give  their  al- 
lowances?" 

"  We  '11  fix  it  so  they  '11  have  to,"  said 
134 


The  Flannigan  Honeymoon 

Patty.  "  We  '11  call  a  mass  meeting  and 
make  a  speech.  Then  everybody  will  file 
past  and  sign  a  paper.  No  one  will  dare  re- 
fuse with  the  school  looking  on." 

Patty's  fire  kindled  an  answering  flame 
in  the  other  two. 

"  It  is  a  good  idea !  "  Conny  declared. 

"  And  it  would  be  a  lark,  fixing  the  house," 
said  Priscilla.  "  Almost  as  much  fun  as  get- 
ting married  ourselves." 

"  Exactly,"  Patty  nodded.  "  Those  poor 
old  things  have  n't  had  a  chance  to  see  each 
other  alone  for  years.  We  '11  give  'em  a 
honeymoon  all  over  again." 

Patty  was  outwardly  occupied  with  geom- 
etry the  next  hour,  but  her  mind  was  busy 
hemming  sheets  and  towels  and  tablecloths. 
It  being  Thursday  evening,  the  hour  between 
eight  and  nine  was  occupied  with  "  manners." 
The  girls  took  turns  in  coming  gracefully 
downstairs,  entering  the  drawing-room,  an- 
nounced by  Claire  du  Bois  in  the  role  of 
footman,  and  shaking  hands  with  their  hos- 
tesses —  Conny  Wilder,  as  dowager  mama, 
and  towering  above  her,  as  debutante  daugb- 

135 


Just   Patty 

ter,  Irene  McCullough,  the  biggest  girl  in 
the  school.  The  gymnasium  teacher  who 
assigned  the  roles,  had  a  sense  of  humor. 
An  appropriate  remark  was  expected  from 
each  guest,  the  weather  being  barred. 

"  Mrs.  Wilder!"  Priscilla  gushed,  ad- 
vancing with  outstretched  hand,  "  and  dear 
little  Irene !  It  does  n't  seem  possible  that 
the  child  is  actually  grown.  It  was  only 
yesterday  that  she  was  a  mite  of  a  thing  tod- 
dling about  — " 

Priscilla  was  shoved  on  by  Patty. 

"  Me  dear  Mrs.  Wilder,"  she  inquired  in 
a  brogue  that  would  have  put  the  Murphys 
to  shame,  "  have  ye  heard  the  news  that 's 
goin'  round?  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tammas  Flan- 
nigan  have  taken  the  Laurel  Cottage  for  the 
season.  They  are  thinkin'  of  startin'  a  sa- 
lon. They  will  be  at  home  ivery  afternoon 
during  recreation  hour  —  and  will  serve 
limonade  and  gingerbread  in  summer,  andj 
soup  and  sandwiches  in  winter.  Ye  must 
take  Irene  to  call  on  thim.'' 

The  moment  "  manners "  was  over,  the 
three  withdrew  to  the  seclusion  of  Patty's 

136 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

and  Conny's  room  in  Paradise  Alley,  and 
closed  the  door  against  callers.  Between 
nine  and  nine-thirty  was  the  fashionable 
calling  hour  at  St.  Ursula's.  The  time  was 
supposed  to  be  occupied  in  getting  ready  for 
bed,  but  if  one  were  clever  about  undressing 
in  the  dark,  one  might  devote  the  thirty  min- 
utes to  social  purposes. 

"  Gone  to  sleep !  Don't  disturb  us !  "  the 
placard  read  that  they  impaled  upon  the 
door,  but  the  clatter  of  tongues  inside  belied 
the  words. 

"  Is  n't  my  idea  fine  about  the  lemonade 
and  soup?  "  Patty  demanded. 

"  The  great  thing  about  charity  is  not  to 
make  it  charity.  You  must  keep  people  self- 
supporting,"  Priscilla  quoted  from  their  last 
lesson  in  sociology. 

"We'll  fix  little  tables  under  the  apple 
tree  in  summer  and  in  the  parlor  in  winter," 
Patty  planned,  "  and  all  the  school  girls  and 
automobiles  will  stop  for  lemonade.  We  '11 
charge  the  girls  five  cents  a  glass  and  the  auto- 
mobiles ten." 

"  And  I  say,  let 's  make  Patrick  and  Tam« 
137 


Just    Patty 

mas  each  contribute  a  dollar  a  week  toward 
their  support,"  Conny  proposed.  "  They 
must  eat  up  a  dollar's  worth  of  potatoes  as 
they  are  living  now." 

They  continued  planning  in  whispers  until 
long  after  "lights-out"  had  rung;  and  Pris- 
cilla,  in  a  laudable  desire  to  be  inconspicuous, 
was  obliged  to  crawl  on  hands  and  knees  past 
Mademoiselle's  open  door,  before  she  gained 
her  own  room  at  the  end  of  the  corridor. 

The  moment  recreation  sounded  the  next 
afternoon,  they  obtained  permission  to  be  out 
of  bounds,  and  set  off  at  a  brisk  trot.  It  was 
their  businesslike  intention  to  have  all  the  sta- 
tistics complete,  before  submitting  the  matter 
to  the  assembled  school. 

"  We  '11  first  call  on  Patrick  and  Tamma* 
and  make  'em  promise  the  dollar,"  said 
Patty. 

Patrick  readily  promised  his  dollar  —  Pat- 
rick was  always  strong  in  promises  —  and  the 
girls  proceeded  gaily  to  Tammas  Junior's. 
They  found  Granpa  on  the  back  doorstep 
anxiously  wiping  his  feet;  he  was  a  tremulou* 
reed  that  bowed  before  erery  blast  of  the 

138 


The  Flannigan   Honeymoon 

daughter-in-law's  tongue.  Tammas  Junior, 
after  being  taken  aside  and  told  the  project, 
thought  he  could  manage  two  dollars  a  week. 
An  expression  of  relief  momentarily  took  the 
hunted  look  from  his  eyes.  He  was  clearly 
glad  to  rescue  his  father  from  the  despotic 
rule  of  his  wife. 

The  girls  turned  away  with  their  minds 
made  up.  It  only  remained  to  secure  the 
cottage,  coerce  the  school,  and  hem  the 
sheets. 

"  You  go  and  price  furniture  and  wall  pa- 
per," Patty  issued  her  orders,  "  while  I  see 
about  the  rent.  We  '11  meet  at  the  soda- 
water  fountain." 

She  found  the  real-estate  man  who  owned 
the  cottage  established  in  an  office  over  the 
bank;  and  by  what  she  considered  rare  busi- 
ness ability,  beat  him  down  from  nine  dollars 
a  month  to  seven.  This  stroke  accomplished, 
she  intimated  her  readiness  for  the  lease. 

"  A  lease  will  not  be  necessary,"  he  said. 
"  A  month  to  month  verbal  agreement  will 
do." 

"  I  can't  consider  it  without  a  lease,"  said 
139 


Just   Patty 

Patty,  firmly.  "  You  might  sell  or  some- 
thing, and  then  we  'd  have  to  move  out." 

The  gentleman  amusedly  filled  in  the  form, 
and  signed  as  party  of  the  first  part.  He 
passed  the  pen  to  Patty  and  indicated  the  space 
reserved  for  the  signature  of  the  party  of  the 
second  part. 

"  I  must  first  consult  my  partners,"  she  ex- 
plained. 

"  Oh,  I  see !  Have  them  sign  here,  and 
then  bring  the  lease  back." 

"  All  of  them?  "  she  asked,  dubiously  scan- 
ning the  somewhat  cramped  quarters.  "  I  'm 
afraid  there  won't  be  room." 

"  How  many  partners  have  you?  " 

"  Sixty-three.'* 

He  stared  momentarily,  then  as  his  eye  fell 
on  the  embroidered  "  St.  U."  on  Patty's  coat 
sleeve,  he  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  he  apologized,  "  but 
I  was  a  bit  staggered  for  a  moment.  I  am 
not  used  to  doing  business  on  such  a  large 
scale.  In  order  to  be  legal,"  he  gravely  ex- 
plained, "  the  paper  will  have  to  be  signed 
by  all  of  the  parties  to  the  contract.  If  there 
140 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

is  not  enough  room,  you  might  paste  on  an 
er—  " 

"  Annex?  "  suggested  Patty. 

"  Exactly,"  he  agreed  and  with  grave  po- 
liteness bowed  her  out. 

As  the  bell  rang  that  indicated  the  end  of 
study  that  evening,  Patty  and  Conny  and  Pris- 
cilla  jumped  to  their  feet,  and  called  a  mass 
meeting  of  the  school.  The  door  was  closed 
after  the  retreating  Miss  Jellings,  and  for 
half  an  hour  the  three  made  speeches  sep- 
arately and  in  unison.  They  were  persuasive 
talkers  and  they  carried  the  day.  The  allow- 
ance was  voted  with  scarcely  a  dissenting 
voice,  and  the  school  filed  past  and  signed 
the  lease. 

For  two  weeks  St.  Ursula's  was  a  busy 
place  —  and  also  Laurel  Cottage.  Bounds 
were  practically  enlarged  to  include  it.  The 
girls  worked  in  gangs  during  every  recreation 
hour.  The  cellar  was  whitewashed  by  a  com- 
mittee of  four,  who  went  in  blue,  and  came 
out  speckled  like  a  plover's  egg.  Tammas 
Junior  had  volunteered  for  this  job,  but  it 
was  one  the  girls  could  not  relinquish.  They 
141 


Just    Patty 

did  allow  him  to  kalsomine  the  ceilings  and 
hang  the  wall  paper;  but  they  painted  the 
floors  and  the  lower  reaches  of  woodwork 
themselves.  The  evening's  hour  of  recrea- 
tion no  longer  found  them  dancing,  but  sitting 
in  a  solid  phalanx  on  the  stairs  hemming 
sheets  and  tablecloths.  The  house  was  to  be 
furnished  with  a  completeness  that  poor  Mrs. 
Flannigan,  in  all  her  married  life,  had  never 
known  before. 

When  everything  was  finished,  the  day  be- 
fore the  holidays,  the  school  in  a  body  wiped 
its  feet  on  the  door-mat  and  tiptoed  through 
on  a  last  visit  of  inspection.  The  cottage 
contained  three  rooms,  with  a  cellar  and  wood- 
shed besides.  The  wall  paper  and  chintz 
hangings  of  the  parlor  were  flaming  pink 
peonies  with  a  wealth  of  foliage  —  a  touch 
flamboyant  for  some  tastes,  but  Granpa'a 
and  Gramma's  eyes  were  failing,  and  they 
liked  strong  colors.  Also,  crafty  questioning 
had  elicited  the  fact  that  "  pinies "  were 
Gramma's  favorite  flower.  The  kitchen  had 
turkey-red  curtains  with  a  cheerful  strip  of 
rag  carpet  and  two  comfortable  easy  chairs 
142 


The  Flannigan   Honeymoon 

before  the  hearth.  The  cellar  was  generously 
stocked  from  the  school  farm  —  Miss  Sal- 
lie's  contribution  —  with  potatoes  and  cab- 
bages and  carrots  and  onions,  enough  to  make 
Irish  stew  for  three  months  to  come.  The 
woodbin  was  filled,  and  even  a  five-gallon  can 
of  kerosene.  Sixty-four  pairs  of  eyes  had 
scanned  the  rooms  minutely  to  make  sure  that 
no  essential  was  omitted. 

Both  the  Murphy  and  Flannigan  house- 
holds had  been  agog  for  days  over  the  pro- 
posed flitting  of  the  pair.  Even  Mrs.  Tam- 
mas  had  volunteered  to  wash  the  windows  of 
the  new  cottage,  and  for  a  week  she  had 
scarcely  been  cross.  The  old  man  was  al- 
ready wondering  at  life.  When  the  time  ar- 
rived, Mrs.  Murphy  secretly  packed  Gram- 
ma's belongings  and  dressed  her  in  her  best, 
under  the  pretext  that  she  was  to  be  taken  in 
a  carriage  to  a  Christmas  party  to  have  supper 
with  her  husband.  The  old  woman  was  in 
a  happy  flutter  at  the  prospect.  Granpa 
was  prepared  for  the  journey  by  the  same  sim- 
ple strategy. 

Patty  and  Conny  and  Priscilla,  as  orig- 
143 


Just   Patty 

inators  of  the  enterprise,  had  been  appointed 
to  install  the  old  couple ;  but  with  tactful  for- 
bearance, they  delegated  the  right  to  the  son 
and  daughter.  They  saw  that  the  fires  were 
burning,  the  lamps  lighted,  and  the  cat  — 
there  was  even  a  cat  —  asleep  on  the  hearth 
rug;  then  when  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels 
in  front  told  them  that  Martin  had  arrived 
with  his  passengers,  they  quietly  slipped  out 
the  back  way  and  jogged  home  to  dinner 
through  the  snowy  dusk. 

They  were  met  by  a  babel  of  questions. 

'  Was  Gramma  pleased  with  the  parlor 
clock?" 

"  Did  she  know  what  to  do  with  the  chaf- 
ing-dish?" 

'*  Were  they  disappointed  at  not  having  a 
feather  bed?" 

"  Did  they  like  the  cat,  or  would  they  rather 
have  had  a  parrot?  "  (The  school  had  been 
torn  asunder  on  this  important  point.) 

At  the  dinner  table  that  night  —  such  of 

the  school  as  was  left  —  chattered  only  of 

Laurel  Cottage.     They  were  as  excited  over 

Gramma   and   Granpa's   happiness,    as   over 

144 


The   Flannigan   Honeymoon 

their  own  approaching  holiday.  All  sixty-four 
were  planning  to  drink  tea,  on  the  first  day 
of  their  return,  from  Gramma's  six  cups. 
i  Toward  nine  o'clock,  Patty  and  Priscilla, 
by  a  special  dispensation  that  allowed  late 
hours  in  vacation,  received  permission  to  ac- 
company Conny  and  ten  other  dear  friends 
to  the  station  for  the  western  express.  Driv- 
ing back  alone  in  the  "  hearse,"  still  bubbling 
with  the  hilarity  of  Christmas  farewells,  they 
passed  the  Laurel  Cottage. 

"  I  believe  they  Jre  still  up !  "  said  Priscilla. 
"  Let 's  stop  and  wish  'em  a  Merry  Christ- 
mas, just  to  make  sure  they  like  it." 

Martin  was  readily  induced  to  halt ;  his  dis- 
cipline also  was  relaxed  in  vacation.  They 
approached  the  door,  but  hesitated  at  sight  of 
the  picture  revealed  by  the  lighted  window. 
To  interrupt  with  the  boisterous  greetings  of 
the  season,  seemed  like  rudely  breaking  in 
upon  the  seclusion  of  lovers.  Only  a  glance 
was  needed  to  tell  them  that  the  house-warm- 
ing was  successful.  Gramma  and  Granpa 
were  sitting  before  the  fire  in  their  comforta- 
ble red-cushioned  rocking-chairs;  the  lamp 
145 


Just    Patty 


shed  a  glow  on  their  radiant  faces,  as  they 
held  each  other's  hands  and  smiled  into  the 
future. 

Patty  and  Priscilla  tiptoed  away  and 
climbed  back  into  the  hearse,  a  touch  sobered 
and  thoughtful. 

"  You  know,"  Patty  pondered,  "  they  are 
just  as  contented  as  if  they  lived  in  a  palace 
with  a  million  dollars  and  an  automobile! 
It's  funny,  isn't  it,  what  a  little  thing 
makes  some  people  happy?  " 


'146 


VI 

The   Silver    Buckles 


yi 
The  Silver   Buckles 


O  be  cooped  up  for  three  week® 
with  the  two  stupidest  girls  in 
the  school — " 

"  Kid  McCoy  is  n't  so  bad," 
said  Conny  consolingly. 

"  She  's  a  horrid  little  tomboy." 
"  But  you  know  she  's  entertaining,  Patty." 
"  She  never  says  a  word  that  is  n't  slang, 
and  /  think  she  's  the  limit!  " 

"  Well,  anyway,  Harriet  Gladden  — " 
"  Is  perfectly  dreadful  and  you  know  it. 
I  would  just  as  soon  spend  Christmas  with  a 
weeping  angel  on  a  tombstone." 

"  She  is  pretty  mournful,"  Priscilla  agreed. 
"  I  Ve  spent  three  Christmases  with  her. 
But  anyway,  you  '11  have  fun.  You  can  be 
late  for  meals  whenever  you  want,  and  Nora 
lets  you  make  candy  on  the  kitchen  stove." 
149 


Just   Patty 

Patty  sniffed  disdainfully  as  she  commenced 
the  work  of  resettling  her  room,  after  the 
joyous  upheaval  of  a  Christmas  packing.  The 
other  two  assisted  in  silent  sympathy.  There 
was  after  all  not  much  comfort  to  be  offered. 
School  in  holiday  time  was  a  lonely  substitute 
for  home.  Priscilla,  whose  father  was  a 
naval  officer,  and  whose  home  was  a  peripa- 
tetic affair,  had  become  inured  to  the  experi- 
ence; but  this  particular  year,  she  was  gaily 
setting  out  to  visit  cousins  in  New  York  — 
with  three  new  dresses  and , two  new  hats! 
And  Patty,  whose  home  was  a  mere  matter 
of  two  hours  in  a  Pullman  car,  was  to  be  left 
behind;  for  six-year  old  Thomas  Wyatt  had 
chosen  this  inopportune  time  to  come  down 
with  scarlet  fever.  The  case  was  of  the  light- 
est; Master  Tommy  was  sitting  up  in  bed  and 
occupying  himself  with  a  box  of  lead  soldiers. 
But  the  rest  of  the  family  were  not  so  com- 
fortable. Some  were  quarantined  in,  and  the 
others  out.  Judge  Wyatt  had  installed  him- 
self in  a  hotel  and  telegraphed  the  Dowager 
to  keep  Patty  at  St.  Ursula's  during  the  holi- 
days. Poor  Patty  had  been  happily  packing 
150 


The  Silver  Buckles 

her  trunk  when  the  news  arrived;  and  as  she 
unpacked  it,  she  distributed  a  few  excusable 
tears  through  the  bureau  drawers. 

Ordinarily,  a  number  remained  for  the  holi- 
days,—  girls  whose  homes  were  in  the  West 
or  South,  or  whose  parents  were  traveling 
abroad  or  getting  divorces  —  but  this  year  the 
assortment  was  unusually  meager.  Patty  was 
left  alone  in  "  Paradise  Alley."  Margarite 
McCoy,  of  Texas,  was  stranded  at  the  end  of 
the  South  Corridor,  and  Harriet  Gladden  of 
Nowhere,  had  a  suite  of  eighteen  rooms  at 
her  disposal  in  "  Lark  Lane."  These  and 
four  teachers  made  up  the  household. 

Harriet  Gladden  had  been  five  years 
straight  at  St.  Ursula's  —  term  time  and  va- 
cations without  a  break.  She  came  a  lanky 
little  girl  of  twelve,  all  legs  and  arms,  and  she 
was  now  a  lanky  big  girl  of  seventeen,  still  all 
legs  and  arms.  An  invisible  father,  at  inter- 
vals mentioned  in  the  catalogue,  mailed  checks 
to  Mrs.  Trent;  and  beyond  this  made  no  sign. 
Poor  Harriet  was  a  mournful,  silent,  neg- 
lected child ;  entirely  out  of  place  in  the  effer- 
vescing life  that  went  on  around  her. 


Just   Patty 


She  never  had  any  birthday  boxes  from 
home,  never  any  Christmas  presents,  except 
those  that  came  from  the  school.  While  the 
other  girls  were  clamoring  for  mail,  Harriet 
stood  in  the  background  silent  and  unex- 
pectant.  Miss  Sallie  picked  out  her  clothes, 
and  Miss  Sallie's  standards  were  utilitarian 
rather  than  esthetic.  Harriet,  with  no  ex- 
ception, was  the  worst  dressed  girl  in  the 
school.  Even  her  school  uniform,  which  was 
an  exact  twin  of  sixty-three  other  uniforms, 
hung  upon  her  with  the  grace  of  a  meal-bag. 
Miss  Sallie,  with  provident  foresight,  always 
ordered  them  a  size  too  large  in  order  to  al- 
low her  to  grow  and  Harriet  invariably  wore 
them  out,  before  she  had  established  a  fit. 

"  What  on  earth  becomes  of  Harriet  Glad- 
den during  vacation?"  Priscilla  once  won- 
dered on  the  opening  day. 

"  They  keep  her  on  ice  through  the  sum- 
mer," was  Patty's  opinion,  "  and  she  never 
gets  entirely  thawed  out." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  this  was,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  what  they  did  do  with  her.  Miss 
Sallie  picked  out  a  quiet,  comfortable,  healthy 
152 


The  Silver  Buckles 

farmhouse,  and  installed  Harriet  in  charge  of 
the  farmer's  wife.  By  the  end  of  three 
months  she  was  so  desperately  lonely,  that  she 
looked  forward  with  pleasurable  excitement 
to  the  larger  isolation  of  term  time. 

Patty,  one  day,  had  overheard  two  of  the 
teachers  discussing  Harriet,  and  her  reported 
version  had  been  picturesque. 

"  Her  father  has  n't  seen  her  for  years  and 
years.  He  just  chucks  her  in  here  and  pays 
the  bills." 

"  I  don't  wonder  he  does  n't  want  her  at 
home !  "  said  Priscilla. 

"  There  is  n't  any  home.  Her  mother  is 
divorced,  and  married  again,  and  living  in 
Paris.  That  was  the  reason  Harriet  could  n't 
go  abroad  with  the  school  party  last  year. 
Her  father  was  afraid  that  when  she  got  to 
Paris,  her  mother  would  grab  her  —  not  that 
either  of  them  really  wants  her,  but  they  like 
to  spite  each  other." 

Priscilla  and  Conny  sat  up  interestedly. 
Here  was  a  tragic  intrigue,  such  as  you  ex- 
pect to  meet  only  in  novels,  going  on  under 

their  very  noses. 
& 

153 


Just   Patty 


"  You  girls  who  have  had  a  happy  home 
life,  cannot  imagine  the  loneliness  of  a  child- 
hood such  as  Harriet's,"  said  Patty  impress- 
ively. 

"It's  dreadful!"  Conny  cried.  "Her 
father  must  be  a  perfect  Beast  not  to  take  any 
notice  of  her." 

"  Harriet  has  her  mother's  eyes,"  Patty  ex- 
plained. "  Her  father  can't  bear  to  look  at 
her,  because  she  reminds  him  of  the  happy 
past  that  is  dead  forever." 

"Did  Miss  Wadsworth  say  that?"  they 
demanded  in  an  interested  chorus. 

"  Not  in  exactly  those  words,"  Patty  con- 
fessed. "  I  just  gathered  the  outline." 

This  story,  with  picturesque  additions,  lost 
no  time  in  making  the  rounds  of  the  school. 
Had  Harriet  chosen  to  play  up  to  the  ro- 
mantic and  melancholy  role  she  was  cast  for, 
she  might  have  attained  popularity  of  a  sort; 
(but  Harriet  did  not  have  the  slightest  trace  of 
the  histrionic  in  her  make-up.  She  merely 
moped  about,  and  continued  to  be  heavy  and 
uninteresting.  Other  more  exciting  matters 

154 


The  Silver  Buckles 

demanded  public  attention;  and  Harriet  and 
her  blasted  childhood  were  forgotten. 

Patty  stood  on  the  veranda  waving  good- 
by  to  the  last  hearseful  of  Christmas  travel- 
ers, then  turned  indoors  to  face  an  empty 
three  weeks.  As  she  was  listlessly  preparing 
to  mount  the  stairs,  Maggie  waylaid  her  with 
the  message : 

"  Mrs.  Trent  would  like  to  speak  to  you 
in  her  private  study,  Miss  Patty." 

Patty  turned  back,  wondering  for  just  which 
of  her  latest  activities  she  was  to  be  called  to 
account.  A  visit  to  the  Dowager's  private 
study  usually  meant  that  a  storm  was  brewing. 
She  found  the  four  left-behind  teachers  cosily 
gathered  about  the  tea  table,  and  to  her  sur- 
prise, was  received  with  four  affable  smiles. 

"  Sit  down,  Patty,  and  have  some  tea." 

The  Dowager  motioned  her  to  a  chair, 
while  she  mingled  an  inch  of  tea  with  three 
inches  of  hot  water.  Miss  Sallie  fur- 
nished a  fringed  napkin,  Miss  Jellings  pre- 
sented buttered  toast,  and  Miss  Wadsworth, 
salted  almonds.  Patty  blinked  dazedly  and 
155' 


Just   Patty 


accepted  the  offerings.  To  be  waited  on  by 
four  teachers  was  an  entirely  new  experience. 
Her  spirits  rose  considerably  as  she  mentally 
framed  the  story  for  Priscilla's  and  Conny's 
delectation.  When  she  had  ceased  to  won- 
der why  she  was  being  thus  honored,  the  rea- 
son appeared. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Patty,"  said  the  Dowager, 
"  that  none  of  your  special  friends  are  to  be 
here  this  year;  but  I  am  sure  that  you  and 
Margarite  and  Harriet  will  get  on  very  hap- 
pily. Breakfast  will  be  half  an  hour  later 
than  usual,  and  the  rules  about  bounds  will  be 
somewhat  relaxed  —  only  of  course  we  must 
always  know  where  to  find  you.  I  shall  try 
to  plan  a  matinee  party  in  the  city,  and  Miss 
Sallie  will  take  you  to  spend  a  day  at  the 
farm.  The  ice  is  strong  enough  now  for  you 
to  skate,  and  Martin  will  get  out  the  sleds 
for  you  to  coast.  You  must  be  in  the  open 
air  as  much  as  possible;  and  I  shall  be  very 
pleased  if  you  and  Margarite  can  interest 
Harriet  in  out-of-door  sports.  Speaking  of 
Harriet—" 

The  Dowager  hesitated  momentarily,  and 


The  Silver  Buckles 

Patty's  acute  understanding  realized  that  at 
last  they  were  getting  at  the  kernel  of  the  in- 
terview. The  tea  and  toast  had  been  merely 
wrapping.  She  listened  with  a  touch  of  sus- 
picion, while  the  Dowager  lowered  her  voice 
with  an  air  of  confidence. 

"  Speaking  of  Harriet,  I  should  like  to  en- 
list your  sympathy,  Patty.  She  is  very  sweet 
and  genuine.  A  girl  that  anyone  might  be 
proud  to  have  for  a  friend.  But  through  an 
accident,  such  as  sometimes  happens  in  a 
crowded,  busy,  selfish  community,  she  has 
been  overlooked  and  left  behind.  Harriet 
has  never  seemed  to  adjust  herself  so  readily 
as  most  girls;  and  I  fear  that  the  poor  child 
is  often  very  lonely.  It  would  be  highly  grati- 
fying to  me  if  you  would  make  an  effort  to  be 
friendly  with  her.  I  am  sure  that  she  will 
meet  your  advances  half  way." 

Patty  murmured  a  few  polite  phrases  and 
retired  to  dress  for  dinner,  stubbornly  re- 
solved to  be  as  distant  with  Harriet  as  possi- 
ble. Her  friendship  was  not  a  commodity 
to  be  bought  with  tea  and  buttered  toast. 

The  three  girls  had  dinner  alone  at  a  little 
157 


Just    Patty 

candle-lit  table  set  in  a  corner  of  the  dining- 
room,  while  the  four  teachers  occupied  a  con- 
veniently distant  table  in  the  opposite  corner. 

Patty  commenced  the  meal  by  being  as  mon- 
osyllabic as  possible;  but  it  was  not  her  nat- 
ural attitude  toward  the  world,  and  by  the 
time  the  veal  had  arrived  (it  was  Wednesday 
night)  she  was  laughing  whole-heartedly  at 
Kid's  ingenuous  conversation.  Miss  Mc- 
Coy's vocabulary  was  rich  in  the  vernacular 
of  the  plains,  and  in  vacation  she  let  herself 
go.  During  term  time  she  was  forced  to  curb 
her  discourse,  owing  to  the  penny  tax  on 
slang.  Otherwise,  her  entire  allowance  would 
have  gone  to  swell  the  public  coffers. 

It  was  a  relief  to  let  dinner-table  conversa- 
tion flow  where  it  listed;  usually,  with  a 
teacher  in  attendance  and  the  route  marked 
out,  there  was  a  cramped  formality  about  the 
meal.  French  conversation  was  supposed  to 
occupy  the  first  three  courses  five  nights  in  the 
week,  and  every  girl  must  contribute  at  least 
two  remarks.  It  cannot  be  said  that  on 
French  nights  the  dining-room  was  garrulous. 
Saturday  night  was  devoted  to  a  discussion  (in 


The  Silver  Buckles 

English),  of  current  events,  gleaned  from  a 
study  of  the  editorials  in  the  morning  paper. 
Nobody  at  St.  Ursula's  had  much  time  for  edi- 
torials, and  even  on  an  English  Saturday  con- 
versation languished.  But  the  school  made 
up  for  it  on  Sunday.  This  day,  being  festa, 
they  could  talk  about  anything  they  chose; 
and  sixty-four  magpies  chattering  their  ut- 
most, would  have  been  silence  in  comparison 
to  St.  Ursula's  at  dinner  time  on  Sunday. 

The  four  days  preceding  Christmas  passed 
with  unexpected  swiftness.  A  snow-storm 
marked  the  first,  followed  by  three  days  of 
glistening  sunshine.  Martin  got  out  the  bobs, 
and  the  girls  piled  in  and  rode  to  the  wood- 
lot  for  evergreens.  There  were  many  er- 
rands in  the  village,  and  the  novelty  of  not 
always  having  a  teacher  at  one's  heels,  proved 
in  itself  diverting. 

Patty  found  the  two  companions  which  cir- 
cumstances had  forced  upon  her  unexpectedly 
companionable.  They  skated  and  coasted 
and  had  snow  fights;  and  Harriet,  to  Patty's 
wide-eyed  astonishment,  assumed  a  very  ap- 
159 


Just    Patty 

preciable  animation.  On  Christmas  Eve  they 
had  been  out  with  Martin  delivering  Christ- 
mas baskets  to  old  time  proteges  of  the  school ; 
and  on  the  way  home,  through  pure  overflow- 
ing animal  spirits,  for  a  mile  or  more  they 
had  "  caught  on  "  the  back  of  the  bob,  and 
then  tumbled  out  and  run  and  caught  on  again, 
until  they  finally  dove  head  foremost  into  the 
big  piled-up  drift  by  the  porte-cochere.  They 
shook  the  snow  from  their  clothes,  like  pup- 
pies from  a  pond,  and  laughing  and  excited 
trooped  indoors.  Harriet's  cheeks  were  red 
from  contact  with  the  snow,  her  usually  prim 
hair  was  a  tangled  mass  about  her  face,  her 
big  dark  eyes  had  lost  their  mournful  look. 
They  were  merry,  mischievous,  girlish  eyes. 
She  was  not  merely  pretty,  but  beautiful,  in  a 
wild,  unusual,  gypsyish  way  that  compelled 
attention. 

"  I  say!  "  Patty  whispered  to  Kid  McCoy 
as  they  divested  themselves  of  rubbers  and 
leggins  in  the  lower  hall.  "  Look  at  Har- 
riet! Isn't  she  pretty?  " 

"  Golly!"  murmured  the  Kid.  "If  she 
1 60 


The  Silver  Buckles 

knew  enough  to  play  up  to  her  looks,  she  'd 
be  the  ravingest  beauty  in  all  the  school." 

"  Let 's  make  her!  "  said  Patty. 

At  the  top  of  the  stairs  they  met  Osaki  with 
a  hammer  and  chisel. 

"  I  open  two  box,"  he  observed.  "  One 
Mees  Margarite  McCoy.  One  Mees  Patty 
Wyatt." 

"Hooray!"  cried  the  Kid,  starting  at  a 
gallop  for  her  room  in  the  South  Wing. 

A  Christmas  box  to  Kid  McCoy  meant  a 
lavish  wealth  of  new  possessions  out  of  all 
proportion  to  her  desserts.  She  owned  a 
bachelor  guardian  who  was  subject  to  fits  of 
such  erratic  generosity  that  the  Dowager  had 
regularly  to  remind  him  that  Margarite  was 
but  a  school  girl  with  simple  tastes.  For- 
tunately he  always  forgot  this  warning  before 
the  next  Christmas  —  or  else  he  knew  Kid 
too  well  to  believe  it  —  and  the  boxes  con- 
tinued to  come. 

Patty  had  also  started  without  ceremony 
for  Paradise  Alley,  when  she  became  aware 
of  deserted  Harriet,  slowly  trailing  down 
161 


Just    Patty 

the    dim   length    of   Lark   Lane.     She    ran 
back  and  grasped  her  by  an  elbow. 

"Come  on,  Harry!     And  help  me  open 


it." 


Harriet's  face  flushed  with  sudden  pleas- 
ure ;  it  was  the  first  time,  in  the  five  and  a  half 
years  of  her  school  career,  that  she  had  ever 
achieved  the  dignity  of  a  nickname.  She  ac- 
companied Patty  with  some  degree  of  eager- 
ness. The  next  best  thing  to  receiving  a 
Christmas  box  of  your  own,  is  to  be  present 
at  the  reception  of  a  friend's. 

It  was  a  big  square  wooden  box,  packed1 
to  the  brim  with  smaller  boxes  and  parcels 
tied  with  ribbon  and  holly,  and  tucked  into 
every  crevice  funny  surprises.  You  could 
picture,  just  from  looking  at  it,  the  kind  of 
home  that  it  came  from,  filled  with  jokes  and 
nonsense  and  love, 

"  It 's  the  first  Christmas  I  've  ever  spent 
away  from  home,"  said  Patty,  with  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  quiver  in  her  voice. 

But  her  momentary  soberness  did  not  last; 
the  business  of  exploration  was  too  absorbing 
to  allow  of  any  divided  emotion.  Harriet 
162 


The  Silver  Buckles 

sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  watched  in  si- 
lence, while  Patty  gaily  strewed  the  floor  with 
tissue  paper  and  scarlet  ribbon.  She  unpacked 
a  wide  assortment  of  gloves  and  books  and 
trinkets,  each  with  a  message  of  love.  Even 
the  cook  had  baked  a  Christmas  cake  with  a 
fancy  top.  And  little  Tommy,  in  wobbly  up- 
hill printing,  had  labeled  an  elephant  filled 
with  candy,  "  FOR  DERE  CISTER  FROM 

TOM." 

Patty  laughed  happily  as  she  plumped  a 
chocolate  into  her  mouth,  and  dropped  the 
elephant  into  Harriet's  lap. 

"  Are  n't  they  dears  to  go  to  such  a  lot 
of  trouble?  I  tell  you,  it  pays  to  stay  away 
sometimes,  they  think  such  a  lot  more  of  you ! 
This  is  from  Mother,"  she  added,  as  she 
pried  off  the  cover  of  a  big  dressmaker's  box, 
and  lifted  out  a  filmy  dancing  frock  of  pink 
crepe. 

"  Is  n't  it  perfectly  sweet?  "  she  demanded, 
"  and  I  did  n't  need  it  a  bit  I  Don't  you  love 
to  get  things  you  don't  need?  " 

"  I  never  do,"  said  Harriet. 

Patty  was  already  deep  in  another  parcel. 


Just   Patty 

"  From  Daddy,  with  all  the  love  in  the 
world,"  she  read.  "  Dear  old  Dad !  What 
on  earth  do  you  s'pose  it  is?  I  hope  Mother 
suggested  something.  He  's  a  perfect  idiot 
about  choosing  presents,  unless  —  Oh !  "  she 
squealed.  "  Pink  silk  stockings  and  slippers 
to  match;  and  look  at  those  perfectly  lovely 
buckles!" 

She  offered  for  Harriet's  inspection  a  pink 
satin  slipper  adorned  with  the  daintiest  of  sil- 
ver buckles,  and  with  heels  dizzily  suggestive 
of  France. 

"  Is  n't  my  father  a  lamb?  "  Patty  gaily 
kissed  her  hand  toward  a  dignified,  judicial- 
looking  portrait  on  the  bureau.  "  Mother 
suggested  the  slippers,  of  course,  but  the 
buckles  and  French  heels  were  his  own  idea. 
She  likes  me  sensible,  and  he  likes  me  frivo- 
lous." 

She  was  deep  in  the  absorbing  business  of 
holding  the  pink  frock  before  the  glass  to 
make  sure  that  the  color  was  becoming,  when 
she  was  suddenly  arrested  by  the  sound  of  a 
sob,  and  she  turned  to  see  Harriet  throw  her- 
self across  the  bed  and  clutch  the  pillow  in  a 
164 


The  Silver  Buckles 

storm  of  weeping.  Patty  stared  with  wide- 
open  eyes ;  she  herself  did  not  indulge  in  such 
emotional  demonstrations,  and  she  could  not 
imagine  any  possible  cause.  She  moved  the 
pink  satin  slippers  out  of  reach  of  Harriet's 
thrashing  feet,  gathered  up  the  fallen  ele- 
phant and  scattered  chocolates,  and  sat  down 
to  wait  until  the  cataclysm  should  pass. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  mildly  in- 
quired, when  Harriet's  sobs  gave  place  to 
choking  gasps. 

"  My  father  never  sent  me  any  s-silver 
b-buckles." 

"  He  's  way  off  in  Mexico,"  said  Patty, 
awkwardly  groping  for  consolation. 

"  He  never  sends  me  anything !  He 
does  n't  even  know  me.  He  would  n't  recog- 
nize me  if  he  met  me  on  the  street." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  would,"  Patty  assured  her 
with  doubtful  comfort.  "  You  have  n't 
changed  a  bit  in  four  years." 

"  And  he  would  n't  like  me  if  he  did  know 
me.  I  'm  not  pretty,  and  my  clothes  are 
never  nice,  and — "  Harriet  was  off  again. 

Patty    regarded    her    for    a    moment    of 


Just   Patty 

thoughtful  silence,  then  she  decided  on  a  new 
tack.  She  stretched  out  a  hand  and  shook 
her  vigorously. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  stop  crying !  That 's 
what 's  the  matter  with  your  father.  No  man 
can  stand  having  tears  dripped  down  his  neck 
all  the  time." 

Harriet  arrested  her  sobs  to  stare. 

"  If  you  could  see  the  way  you  look  when 
you  cry !  Sort  of  streaked.  Come  here !  " 
She  took  her  by  the  shoulder  and  faced  her 
before  the  mirror.  "  Did  you  ever  see  sucfi 
a  fright?  And  I  was  just  thinking,  before 
you  began,  about  how  pretty  you  looked.  I 
was,  honestly.  You  could  be  as  pretty  as  any 
of  the  rest  of  us,  if  you  'd  only  make  up  your 
mind—" 

"  No,  I  could  n't !  I  'm  just  as  ugly  as  I 
can  be.  Nobody  likes  me  and  — " 

"It's  your  own  fault!"  said  Patty 
sharply.  "  If  you  were  fat,  like  Irene  Mc- 
Cullough,  or  if  you  did  n't  have  any  chin  like 
Evalina  Smith,  there  might  be  some  reason, 
but  there  is  n't  anything  on  earth  the  matter 
with  you,  except  that  you  're  so  damp!  You 
166 


The  Silver  Buckles 

cry  all  the  time,  and  it  gets  tiresome  to  be  for- 
ever sympathizing.  I  'm  telling  you  the 
truth  because  I  'm  beginning  to  like  you. 
There  's  never  any  use  bothering  to  tell  peo- 
ple the  truth  when  you  don't  like  them.  The 
reason  Conny  and  Pris  and  I  get  on  so  well 
together,  is  because  we  always  tell  each  other 
the  exact  truth  about  our  faults.  Then  we 
have  a  chance  to  correct  them  —  that 's  what 
makes  us  so  nice,"  she  added  modestly. 

Harriet  sat  with  her  mouth  open,  too  sur- 
prised to  cry. 

"  And  your  clothes  are  awful,"  pursued 
Patty  interestedly.  "  You  ought  not  to  let 
Miss  Sallie  pick  'em  out.  Miss  Sallie  's  nice ; 
I  like  her  a  lot,  but  she  does  n't  know  any 
more  than  a  rabbit  about  clothes ;  you-  can  tell 
that  by  the  way  she  dresses  herself.  And 
then,  too,  you  'd  be  a  lot  nicer  if  you  would  n't 
be  so  stiff.  If  you  'd  just  laugh  the  way  the 
irest  of  us  do  — " 

•  "  How  can  I  laugh  when  I  don't  think 
things  are  funny?  The  jokes  the  girls  make 
are  awfully  silly — " 

Speech  was  no  longer  possible,   for   Kid 

167 


Just    Patty 


McCoy  came  stampeding  down  the  corridor 
with  as  much  racket  as  a  cavalcade  of  horse. 
She  was  decked  in  a  fur  scarf  and  a  necklace 
set  with  pearls,  she  wore  a  muff  on  her  head, 
drum-major  fashion;  a  lace  handkerchief  and 
a  carved  ivory  fan  protruded  from  the 
pocket  of  her  blouse  and  a  pink  chiffon  scarf 
floated  from  her  shoulders;  her  wrist  was 
adorned  with  an  Oriental  bracelet  and  she 
was  lugging  in  her  arms  a  silver-mounted 
Mexican  saddle,  of  a  type  that  might  be  suited 
to  the  plains  of  Texas,  but  never  to  the  re- 
spectable country  lanes  adjacent  to  St.  Ur- 
sula's. 

"  Bully  for  Guardie!  "  she  shouted  as  she 
descended  upon  them.  "  He  's  a  daisy;  he  's 
a  ducky;  he  's  a  lamb.  Did  you  ever  see  such 
a  perfectly  corking  saddle?  " 

She  plumped  it  over  a  chair,  transformed 
the  pink  chiffon  scarf  into  a  bridle,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  mount  and  canter  off. 

"Get  up!  Whoa!  Hi,  there!  Clear 
the  road." 

Harriet    jumped    aside    to    avoid    being 
bumped,  while  Patty  snatched  her  pink  frock 
168 


The  Silver  Buckles 

from  the  path  of  the  runaway.  They  were 
shrieking  with  laughter,  even  Harriet,  the 
tearful. 

"  Now  you  see!  "  said  Patty,  suddenly  in- 
terrupting her  mirth.  "  It 's  perfectly  easy  to 
laugh  if  you  just  let  yourself  go.  Kid  is  n't 
really  funny.  She  's  just  as  silly  as  she  can 
be." 

Kid  brought  her  horse  to  a  stand. 

"Well  I  like  that  1" 

"  Excuse  me  for  telling  the  truth/'  said 
Patty  politely,  "  I  'm  just  using  you  for  an 
illustration  —  Heavens !  There  's  the  bell !  " 

She  commenced  unlacing  her  blouse  with 
one  hand,  while  she  pushed  her  guests  to  the 
door  with  the  other. 

"  Hurry  and  dress,  and  come  back  to  but- 
ton me  up.  It  would  be  a  very  delicate  atten- 
tion for  us  to  be  on  time  to-night.  We  Ve  been 
late  for  every  meal  since  vacation  began." 

| 

The  girls  spent  Christmas  morning  coast- 
ing. They  were  on  time  for  luncheon  —  and 
with  appetites! 

The  meal  was  half  over  when  Osakl  ap- 

169 


Just   Patty 

peared  with  a  telegram,  which  he  handed  to 
the  Dowager.  She  read  it  with  agitated  sur- 
prise and  passed  it  to  Miss  Sallie,  who  raised 
her  eyebrows  and  handed  it  to  Miss  Wads- 
worth,  who  was  thrown  into  a  very  visible 
flutter. 

"What  on  earth  can  it  be?"  wondered 
Kid. 

"  Lordy  's  eloped,  and  they  Ve  got  to  hunt 
for  a  new  Latin  teacher,"  was  Patty's  inter- 
pretation. 

As  the  three  girls  left  the  table,  the  Dow- 
ager waylaid  Harriet 

"  Step  into  my  study  a  moment.  A  tele- 
gram has  just  come  — " 

Patty  and  Kid  climbed  the  stairs  in  wide- 
eyed  wonder. 

"  It  can't  be  bad  news,  for  Miss  Sallie  was 
smiling — "  meditated  Patty.  "And  I  can't 
think  of  any  good  news  that  can  be  happen- 
ing to  Harriet." 

Ten  minutes  later  there  was  the  sound  of 
footsteps  on  the  stairs,  and  Harriet  burst  into 
Patty's  room  wild  with  excitement. 

"He's  coming!" 

170 


The  Silver  Buckles 

"Who?" 

"  My  father." 

"When?" 

"  Right  now  —  this  afternoon  —  He  's 
been  in  New  York  on  business,  and  is  coming 
to  see  me  for  Christmas." 

"I'm  so  glad!"  said  Patty  heartily. 
"  Now,  you  see  the  reason  he  has  n't  come 
before  is  because  he  has  been  way  off  in  Mex- 


ico." 


Harriet  shook  her  head,  with  a  sudden  drop 
in  her  animation. 

"  I  suppose  he  thinks  he  ought." 

"Nonsense!" 

"  It 's  so.  He  does  n't  care  for  me  — 
really.  He  likes  girls  to  be  jolly  and  pretty; 
and  clever  like  you." 

"Well,  then  —  be  jolly  and  pretty  and 
clever  like  me." 

Harriet's  eyes  sought  the  mirror,  and  filled 
with  tears. 

"  You  're  a  perfect  idiot!  "  said  Patty,  de- 
spairingly. 

"  I  'm  an  awful  fright  in  my  green  dress," 
said  Harriet. 

171 


Just   Patty 

"  Yes,"  Patty  grudgingly  conceded.    "  You 


are." 


"  The  skirt  is  too  short,  and  the  waist  is 
too  long." 

"  And  the  sleeves  are  sort  of  queer,"  said 
Patty. 

Faced  by  these  dispiriting  facts,  she  felt 
her  enthusiasm  ebbing. 

"  What  time  is  he  coming?  "  she  asked. 

"  Four  o'clock." 

"  That  gives  us  two  hours,"  Patty  rallied 
her  forces.  "  One  can  do  an  awful  lot  in 
two  hours.  If  you  were  only  nearer  my  size, 
you  could  wear  my  new  pink  dress  —  but  I  'm 
afraid  — "  She  regarded  Harriet's  long  legs 
dubiously.  "  I  '11  tell  you !  "  she  added,  in  a 
rush  of  generosity.  "  We'll  take  out  the 
tucks  and  let  down  the  hem." 

uOh,  Patty!"  Harriet  was  tearfully 
afraid  of  spoiling  the  gown.  But  when 
Patty's  zeal  in  any  cause  was  roused,  all  other 
considerations  were  swept  aside.  The  new 
frock  was  fetched  from  the  closet,  and  the 
ripping  began. 

"  And  you  can  wear  Kid's  new  pearl  neck* 
172 


The  Silver  Buckles 

lace  and  pink  scarf,  and  my  silk  stockings  and 
slippers  —  if  you  can  get  'em  on  —  and  I 
think  Conny  left  a  lace  petticoat  that  came 
back  from  the  laundry  too  late  to  pack  — 
and  —  Here  's  Kid  now  1  " 

Miss  McCoy's  sympathies  were  enlisted 
and  in  fifteen  minutes  the  task  of  transform- 
ing a  remonstrating,  excited,  and  occasionally 
tearful  Harriet  into  the  school  beauty,  was 
going  gaily  forward.  Kid  McCoy  was  sup- 
posed to  be  an  irreclaimable  tomboy,  but  in 
this  crucial  moment  the  eternal  feminine  came 
triumphantly  to  the  fore.  She  sat  herself 
down,  with  Patty's  manicure  scissors,  and  for 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  painstakingly  ripped 
out  tucks. 

Patty  meanwhile  addressed  her  attention  to 
Harriet's  hair. 

"  Don't  strain  it  back  so  tight,"  she  or- 
dered. "  It  looks  as  though  you  'd  done  it 
with  a  monkey-wrench.  Here!  Give  me 
the  comb." 

She  pushed  Harriet  into  a  chair,  tied  a 
towel  about  her  neck,  and  accomplished  the 
coifing  by  force. 

173 


Just    Patty 

"  How  's  that?  "  she  demanded  of  Kid. 

"  Bully!  "  Kid  mumbled,  her  mouth  full  of 
pins. 

/  Harriet's  hair  was  rippled  loosely  about 
her  face,  and  tied  with  a  pink  ribbon  bow. 
The  ribbon  belonged  to  Conny  Wilder, 
and  had  heretofore  figured  as  a  belt;  but  in- 
dividual property  rights  were  forced  to  bow 
before  the  cause. 

The  slippers  and  stockings  did  prove  too 
small,  and  Patty  frenziedly  ransacked  the  bu- 
reaus of  a  dozen  of  her  absent  friends  in  the 
vain  hope  of  unearthing  pink  footwear.  In 
the  end,  she  had  reluctantly  to  permit  Har- 
riet's appearing  in  her  own  simple  cotton  hose 
and  patent  leather  pumps. 

"  But  after  all,"  Patty  reassured  her,  "  it 's 
better  for  you  to  wear  black.  Your  feet 
would  be  sort  of  conspicuous  in  pink."  She 
was  still  in  her  truthful  mood.  "  I  '11  tell 
you !  "  she  cried,  "  you  can  wear  my  silver 
buckles."  And  she  commenced  cruelly 
wrenching  them  from  their  pink  chiffon  set- 
ting. 

174 


The  Silver   Buckles 

"  Patty !  Don't!  "  Harriet  gasped  at  the 
sacrilege. 

"  They  're  just  the  last  touch  that  your  cos- 
tume needs."  Patty  ruthlessly  carried  on  the 
work  of  destruction.  "  When  your  father 
sees  those  buckles,  he  '11  think  you  're  beauti- 
ful! " 

For  a  feverish  hour  they  worked.  They 
clothed  her  triumphantly  in  all  the  grandeur 
that  they  could  command.  The  entire  cor- 
ridor had  contributed  its  quota,  even  to  the 
lace-edged  handkerchief  with  a  hand-embroid- 
ered "  H  "  that  had  been  left  behind  in  Hes- 
ter Pringle's  top  drawer.  The  two  turned 
her  critically  before  the  mirror,  the  pride  of 
creation  in  their  eyes.  As  Kid  had  truly 
presaged,  she  was  the  ravingest  beauty  in  all 
the  school. 

Irish  Maggie  appeared  in  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Gladden  is  in  the  drawin'-room,  Miss 
Harriet."  She  stopped  and  stared.  "  Sure, 
ye  're  that  beautiful  I  did  n't  know  ye!  " 

Harriet  went  with  a  laugh  —  and  a  fight- 
ing light  in  her  eyes. 

175 


Just    Patty 

Patty  and  Kid  restlessly  set  themselves  to 
reducing  the  chaos  that  this  sudden  butterfly 
flight  had  caused  in  Paradise  Alley —  it  is 
always  dreary  work  setting  things  to  rights, 
after  the  climax  of  an  event  has  been  reached. 

It  was  an  hour  later  that  the  sudden  quick 
patter  of  feet  sounded  in  the  hall,  and  Har- 
riet ran  in  —  danced  in  —  her  eyes  were  shin- 
ing; she  was  a  picture  of  youth  and  happiness 
and  bubbling  spirits. 

"  Well?  "  cried  Patty  and  Kid  in  a  breath. 

She  stretched  out  her  wrist  and  displayed 
a  gold-linked  bracelet  set  with  a  tiny  watch. 

"  Look!  "  she  cried,  "  he  brought  me  that 
for  Christmas.  And  I  'm  going  to  have  all 
the  dresses  I  want,  and  Miss  Sallie  is  n't  going 
to  pick  them  out  ever  again.  And  he  's  going 
to  stay  for  dinner  to-night,  and  eat  at  the  lit- 
tle table  with  us.  And  he  's  going  to  take  us 
into  town  next  Saturday  for  luncheon  and  the 
^jnatinee,  and  the  Dowager  says  we  may  go !  " 

"Gee!"  observed  Kid.  "It  paid  for 
all  the  trouble  we  took." 

"And  what  do  you  think?"  Harriet 
i  176 


The  Silver  Buckles 

caught  her  breath  in  a  little  gasp.     "  He  likes 
me!  " 

"  I  knew  those  silver  buckles  would  fetcfc 
him !  "  said  Patty. 


VII 

"Uncle  Bobby 


VII 

"Uncle  Bobby" 

HILE  St.  Ursula's  was  still  dal- 
lying with  a  belated  morning- 
after-Christmas  breakfast,  the 
mail  arrived,  bringing  among 
other  matters,  a  letter  for  Patty  from  her 
mother.  It  contained  cheering  news  as  to 
Tommy's  scarlet  fever,  and  the  expressed 
hope  that  school  was  not  too  lonely  during  the 
holidays ;  it  ended  with  the  statement  that  Mr. 
[Robert  Pendleton  was  going  to  be  in  the  city 
on  business,  and  had  promised  to  run  out  to 
St.  Ursula's  to  see  her  little  daughter. 

The  last  item  Patty  read  aloud  to  Harriet 
Gladden  and  Kid  McCoy  (christened  Mar- 
garite).  The  three  "  left-behinds  "  were  oc- 
cupying a  table  together  in  a  secluded  corner 
of  the  dining-room. 

181 


Just    Patty 

"Who's  Mr.  Robert  Pendleton?"  in- 
quired  Kid,  looking  up  from  her  own  letter. 

41  He  used  to  be  my  father's  private  secre- 
tary when  I  was  a  little  girl.  I  always  called 
him  4  Uncle  Bobby.'  " 

Kid  returned  to  her  mail.  She  took  no  in- 
terest in  the  race  of  uncles,  either  real  or  fic- 
titious. But  Patty,  being  in  a  reminiscent 
mood,  continued  the  conversation  with  Har- 
riet, who  had  no  mail  to  deflect  her. 

44  Then  he  went  away  and  commenced  prac- 
tising for  himself.  It 's  been  ages  since  I  Ve 
seen  him ;  but  he  was  really  awfully  nice.  He 
used  to  spend  his  entire  time  —  when  he 
was  n't  writing  Father's  speeches  —  in  get- 
ting me  out  of  scrapes.  I  had  a  goat  named 
Billy-Boy—" 

44  Is  he  married?  "  asked  Harriet. 

"  N-no,  I  don't  think  so.  I  believe  he  had 
a  disappointment  in  his  youth,  that  broke  his 
heart." 

44  What  fun!"  cried  Kid,  reemerging. 
44  Is  it  still  broken?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Patty. 

44  How  old  is  he?" 

182 


"Uncle  Bobby" 

"  I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure.  He  must  be 
quite  old  by  now."  L(^er  tone  suggested 
that  he  was  tottering  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave).  "  It  has  been  seven  years  since  I  've 
seen  him,  and  he  was  through  college  then." 

Kid  dismissed  the  subject.  Old  men,  even 
with  broken  hearts,  contained  no  interest  for 
her. 

[That  afternoon,  as  the  three  girls  were 
gathered  in  Patty's  room  enjoying  an  indi- 
gestible four  o'clock  tea  of  milk  and  bread 
and  butter  (furnished  by  the  school)  and 
fruit  cake  and  candy  and  olives  and  stuffed 
prunes,  the  expressman  arrived  with  a  belated 
consignment  of  Christmas  gifts,  among  them 
a  long  narrow  parcel  addressed  to  Patty.  She 
tore  off  the  wrapping,  to  find  a  note  and  a 
white  pasteboard  box.  She  read  the  note 
aloud  while  the  others  looked  over  her  shoul- 
der. Patty  always  generously  shared  experi- 
ences with  anyone  who  might  be  near. 

*'  My  Dear  Patty,— 

"  Have  you  forgotten  '  Uncle  Bobby  '  who  used  to 
stand  between  you  and  many  well-deserved  spank- 
ings? I  trust  that  you  have  grown  into  a  VERY 

183 


Just   Patty 


GOOD  GIRL  now  that  you  are   old   enough  to  gd 
away  to  school! 

"  I  am  coming  to  see  for  myself  on  Thursday 
afternoon.  In  the  meantime,  please  accept  the  ac- 
companying Christmas  remembrance,  with  the  hope 
that  you  are  having  a  happy  holiday,  in  spite  of  hav- 
ing to  spend  it  away  from  home. 

"  Your  old  playfellow, 

"  ROBERT  PENDLETON." 

"  What  do  you  s'pose  it  is?  "  asked  Patty, 
as  she  addressed  herself  to  unknotting  the 
gold  cord  on  the  box. 

"  I  hope  it  Js  either  flowers  or  candy,"  Har- 
riet returned.  "  Miss  Sallie  says  it  is  n't 
proper  to  — " 

"  Looks  to  me  like  American  Beauty 
roses,"  suggested  Kid  McCoy. 

Patty  beamed. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  lark  to  be  getting  flowers  from 
a  man?  I  feel  awfully  grown  up !  " 

She  lifted  the  cover,  removed  a  mass  of 
tissue  paper,  and  revealed  a  blue-eyed,  smiling 
'doll. 

The  three  girls  stared  for  a  bewildered  mo- 
ment, then  Patty  slid  to  the  floor,  and  buried 
184 


"Uncle  Bobby" 


her  head  in  her  arms  against  the  bed  and 
laughed. 

%i  It 's  got  real  hair!  "  said  Harriet,  gently 
lifting  the  doll  from  its  bed  of  tissue  paper, 
and    entering    upon    a    detailed    inspection. 
"  It 's  clothes  come  off,  and  it  opens  and  shuts 
its  eyes." 

"  Whoop !  "  shouted  Kid  McCoy,  as  she 
snatched  a  shoe-horn  from  the  bureau  and 
commenced  an  Indian  war  dance. 

Patty  checked  her  hysterics  sufficiently  to 
rescue  her  new  treasure  from  the  danger  of 
being  scalped.  As  she  squeezed  the  doll  in 
her  arms,  safe  from  harm's  way,  it  opened 
its  lips  and  emitted  a  grateful,  "  Ma-ma!  " 

They  laughed  afresh.  They  laid  on  the 
floor  and  rolled  in  an  ecstasy  of  mirth  until 
they  were  weak  and  gasping.  Could  Uncle 
Bobby  have  witnessed  the  joy  his  gift  brought 
to  three  marooned  St.  Ursulites,  he  would 
have  indeed  been  gratified.  They  continued 
to  laugh  all  that  day  and  the  following  morn- 
ing. By  afternoon  Patty  had  just  recovered 
her  self-control  sufficiently  to  carry  off  with 
decent  gravity  Uncle  Bobby's  promised  visit. 

185 


Just    Patty 

As  a  usual  thing,  callers  were  discouraged 
at  St.  Ursula's.  They  must  come  from  away, 
accredited  with  letters  from  the  parents,  and 
then  must  pass  an  alarming  assemblage  of 
chaperones.  Miss  Sallie  remained  in  the 
drawing-room  during  the  first  half  of  the  call 
(which  could  last  an  hour),  but  was  then 
supposed  to  withdraw.  But  Miss  Sallie  was 
a  social  soul,  and  she  frequently  neglected  to 
withdraw.  The  poor  girl  would  sit  silent  in 
the  corner,  a  smile  upon  her  lips,  mutiny  in 
her  heart,  while  Miss  Sallie  entertained  the 
caller. 

But  rules  were  somewhat  relaxed  in  the 
holidays.  On  the  day  of  Uncle  Bobby's 
visit,  by  a  fortuitous  circumstance,  Miss  Sallie 
was  five  miles  away,  superintending  a  new 
incubator  house  at  the  school  farm.  The 
Dowager  and  Miss  Wadsworth  and  Miss 
Jellings  were  scheduled  for  a  reception  in  the 
jvillage,  and  the  other  teachers  were  all  away 
for  the  holidays.  Patty  was  told  to  receive 
him  herself,  and  to  remember  her  manners, 
and  let  him  do  a  little  of  the  talking. 

This  left  her  beautifully  free  to  carry  out 
186 


"Uncle   Bobby" 

the  outrageous  scheme  that  she  had  con« 
cocted  over  night.  Harriet  and  Kid  lent 
their  delighted  assistance,  and  the  three  spent 
the  morning  planning  for  her  entrance  in 
character.  They  successfully  looted  the 
"  Baby  Ward  "  where  the  fifteen  little  girls 
of  the  school  occupied  fifteen  little  white 
cots  set  in  fifteen  alcoves.  A  white,  stiffly 
starched  sailor  suit  was  discovered,  with  a 
flaring  blue  linen  collar,  and  a  kilted  skirt, 
that  was  shockingly  short.  Kid  McCoy 
gleefully  unearthed  a  pair  of  blue  and  white 
socks  that  exactly  matched  the  dress,  but  they 
proved  very  much  too  small. 

"  They  would  n't  look  well  anyway," 
said  Patty,  philosophically,  "  I  Ve  got  an  aw- 
ful scratch  on  one  knee." 

Gymnasium  slippers  with  spring  heels  re- 
duced her  five  feet  by  an  inch.  She  spent  the 
early  afternoon  persuading  her  hair  to  hang 
in  a  row  of  curls,  with  a  spanking  blue  bow 
over  her  left  ear.  When  she  was  finished, 
she  made  as  sweet  a  little  girl  as  one  would 
ever  find  romping  in  the  park  on  a  sunny 
morning. 


Just    Patty 

"  What  will  you  do  if  he  kisses  you?  "  in- 
quired Kid  McCoy. 

"  I  '11  try  not  to  laugh,"  said  Patty. 

She  occupied  the  fifteen  minutes  of  wait- 
ing in  a  dress  rehearsal.  By  the  time  Mag- 
gie arrived  with  the  tidings  that  the  visitor 
was  below,  she  had  her  part  letter-perfect. 
Kid  and  Harriet  followed  as  far  as  the  first 
landing,  where  they  remained  dangling  over 
the  banisters,  while  Patty  shouldered  her 
doll  and  descended  to  the  drawing-room. 

She  sidled  bashfully  into  the  door,  dropped 
a  courtesy,  and  extended  a  timid  hand  to  the 
tall  young  gentleman  who  advanced  to  meet 
her. 

"How  do  you  do,  Uncle  Wobert?"  she 
lisped. 

"  Well,  well !     Is  this  little  Patty  ?  " 

He  took  her  by  the  chin  and  turned  up 
her  face  for  a  closer  inspection  —  Mr.  Pen- 
dleton  was,  mercifully,  somewhat  near- 
sighted. She  smiled  back  sweetly,  with  wide, 
innocent,  baby  eyes. 

"  You  're  getting  to  be  a  great  big 
girl!" 

188 


"Uncle  Bobby " 

he     pronounced     with     fatherly     approval. 
"  You  reach  almost  to  my  shoulder.'* 

She  settled  herself  far  back  in  a  deep 
leather  chair,  and  sat  primly  upright,  her  feet 
sticking  straight  out  in  front,  while  she 
clasped  the  doll  in  her  arms. 

"  Sank  you  very  much,  Uncle  Bobby,  for 
my  perfectly  beautiful  doll !  "  Patty  im- 
printed a  kiss  upon  the  smiling  bisque  lips. 

Uncle  Bobby  watched  with  gratified  ap- 
proval. He  liked  this  early  manifestation  of 
the  motherly  instinct. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  name  her?  " 
he  inquired. 

"  I  can't  make  up  my  mind."  She  raised 
anxious  eyes  to  his. 

"  How  would  Patty  Junior  do?  " 

She  repudiated  the  suggestion;  and  they 
finally  determined  upon  Alice,  after  "  Alice 
in  Wonderland."  This  point  happily  dis- 
posed of,  they  settled  themselves  for  conver- 
sation. He  told  her  about  a  Christmas  pan- 
tomime he  had  seen  in  London,  with  little 
girls  and  boys  for  actors. 

Patty  listened,  deeply  interested. 
189 


Just    Patty 


"  I  'II  send  you  the  fairy  book  that  has  the 
story  of  the  play,"  he  promised,  "  with  col- 
ored pictures;  and  then^you  can  read  it  for 
yourself.  You  know  how  to  read,  of 
course?  "  he  added. 

"  Oh,  yes!"  said  Patty,  reproachfully. 
"  I  've  known  how  to  read  a  long  time.  I 
can  read  anyfing  —  if  it  has  big  print." 

"  Well !  You  are  coming  on !  "  said  Uncle 
Bobby. 

They  fell  to  reminiscing,  and  the  conver- 
sation turned  to  Billy-Boy. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  time  he  chewed  up 
his  rope  and  came  to  church?  "  Patty  dimpled 
at  the  recollection. 

"  Jove!     I '11  never  forget  it!" 

"  And  usually  Faver  found  an  excuse  for 
not  going,  but  that  Sunday  Mover  made 
him,  and  when  he  saw  Billy-Boy  marching  up 
the  aisle,  with  a  sort  of  dignified  smile  on 
his  face  — " 

Uncle  Bobby  threw  back  his  head  and 
laughed. 

"  I  thought  the  Judge  would  have  a  stroke 
of  apoplexy !"  he  declared. 
190 


"Uncle   Bobby" 

11  But  the  funniest  thing,"  said  Patty, 
"  was  to  see  you  and  Father  trying  to  get 
him  out!  You  pushed  and  Father  pulled, 
and  first  Billy  balked  and  then  he  butted." 

She  suddenly  realized  that  she  had  neg- 
lected to  lisp,  but  Uncle  Bobby  was  too  taken 
up  with  the  story  to  be  conscious  of  any 
lapse.  Patty  inconspicuously  reassumed  her 
character. 

"  And  Faver  scolded  me  because  the  rope 
broke  —  and  it  was  n't  my  fault  at  all!  "  she 
added  with  a  pathetic  quiver  of  the  lips. 
"  And  the  next  day  he  had  Billy-Boy  shot." 

At  the  remembrance  Patty  drooped  her 
head  over  the  doll  in  her  arms.  Uncle 
Bobby  hastily  offered  comfort. 

"  Never  mind,  Patty !  Maybe  you  '11  have 
another  goat  some  day." 

She  shook  her  head,  with  the  suggestion 
of  a  sob. 

"  No,  I  never  will !  They  don't  let  us 
keep  goats  here.  And  I  loved  Billy-Boy. 
I  Jm  awfully  lonely  without  him." 

1  There,  there,  Patty !     You  're  too  big  a 
girl  to  cry."     Uncle  Bobby  patted  her  curls, 
191 


Just    Patty 

with  kindly  solicitude.  "  How  would  you 
like  to  go  to  the  circus  with  me  some  day  next 
week,  and  see  all  the  animals?  " 

Patty  cheered  up. 

"  Will  there  be  ele-phunts?  "  she  asked. 

"  There  '11  be  several,"  he  promisedc 
"  And  lions  and  tigers  and  camels." 

"  Oh,  goody!  "  she  clapped  her  hands  and 
smiled  through  her  tears.  "  I  'd  love  to  go. 
Sank  you  very,  very  much." 

Half  an  hour  later  Patty  rejoined  her 
friends  in  Paradise  Alley.  She  executed  a 
few  steps  of  the  sailor's  hornpipe  with  the 
doll  as  partner,  then  plumped  herself  onto 
the  middle  of  the  bed  and  laughingly  re- 
garded her  two  companions  through  over- 
hanging curls. 

"  Tell  us  what  he  said,"  Kid  implored. 
"  We  nearly  pulled  our  necks  out  by  the 
roots  stretching  over  the  banisters,  but  we 
could  n't  hear  a  word." 

"  Did  he  kiss  you?  "  asked  Harriet. 

"  N-no."  There  was  a  touch  of  regret  in 
her  tone.  u  But  he  patted  me  on  the  head. 
He  has  a  very  sweet  way  with  children. 
192 


"Uncle   Bobby " 


You  'd  think  he  'd  had  a  course  in  kinder- 
garten training." 

"What  did  you  talk  about?"  insisted 
Kid. 

Patty  outlined  the  conversation. 

"  And  he  's  going  to  take  me  to  the  circus 
next  Wednesday,"  she  ended,  "  to  see  the  ele- 
phunts!  " 

"  The  Dowager  will  never  let  you  go," 
objected  Harriet. 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  will!  "  said  Patty.  "  It 's 
perfectly  proper  to  go  to  the  circus  with  your 
uncle  — 'specially  in  vacation.  We  Ve  got 
it  all  planned.  I  'm  to  go  into  town  with 
Waddy.  I  heard  her  say  she  had  an  ap- 
pointment at  the  dentist's  —  and  he  '11  be  at 
the  station  with  a  hansom  — " 

"  More  likely  a  baby  carriage,"  Kid  put 
in. 

"  Miss  Wadsworth  will  never  take  you 
into  town  in  those  clothes,"  Harriet  ob- 
jected. 

Patty  hugged  her  knees  and  rocked  back 
and  forth,  while  her  dimples  came  and  went. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  that  the  next  time 
13  193 


Just    Patty 

I  '11  give  him  an  entirely  different  kind  of  a 
sensation." 

And  she  did. 

Anticipatory  of  the  coming  event,  she 
sent  her  suit  to  the  tailor's  and  had  him 
lengthen  the  hem  of  the  skirt  two  inches. 
She  spent  an  entire  morning  retrimming  her 
hat  along  more  mature  lines,  and  she  pur- 
chased a  veil  —  with  spots !  She  also  spent 
twenty-five  cents  for  hairpins,  and  did  up  her 
hair  on  the  top  of  her  head.  She  wore  Kid 
McCoy's  Christmas  furs  and  Harriet's 
bracelet  watch;  and,  as  she  set  off  with  a 
somewhat  bewildered  Miss  Wadsworth,  they 
assured  her  that  she  looked  old. 

They  reached  the  city  a  trifle  late  for  Mist, 
Wadsworth's  appointment.     Patty  spied  Mr 
Pendleton  across  the  waiting-room. 

"There's  Uncle  Robert!"  she  said;  and 
to  her  intense  satisfaction,  Miss  Wadsworth 
left  her  to  accost  him  alone. 

She  sauntered  over  in  a  very  blase  fashion 
and  held  out  her  hand.  The  spots  in  the  veil 
seemed  to  dazzle  him;  for  a  moment  he  did 
not  recognize  her. 

194 


"Uncle   Bobby " 

"Mr.  Pendleton!  How  do  you  do?" 
Patty  smiled  cordially.  "  It 's  really  aw- 
fully good  of  you  to  devote  so  much  time  to 
my  entertainment.  And  so  original  of  you 
to  think  of  a  circus  1  I  have  n't  attended  a 
circus  for  years.  It 's  really  refreshing  after 
such  a  dose  of  Shakespeare  and  Ibsen  as  the 
theatres  have  been  offering  this  winter." 

Mr.  Pendleton  offered  a  limp  hand  and 
hailed  a  hansom  without  comment.  He 
leaned  back  in  the  corner  and  continued  to 
stare  for  three  silent  minutes;  then  he  threw 
back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"Good  Lord,  Patty!  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  Ve  grown  up?  " 

Patty  laughed  too. 

"  Well,  Uncle  Bobby,  what  do  you  think 
about  it?" 

Dinner  was  half  over  that  night  before 
the  two  travelers  returned.  Patty  dropped 
into  her  seat  and  unfolded  her  napkin,  with 
the  weary  air  of  a  society  woman  of  many 
engagements. 

"What  happened?"  the  other  two  clam- 

195 


Just   Patty 


ored.  "  Tell  us  about  it !  Was  the  circus 
nice?" 

Patty  nodded. 

"  The  circus  was  charming  —  and  so  were 
the  elephants  —  and  so  was  Uncle  Bobby. 
We  had  tea  afterwards;  and  he  gave  me  a 
bunch  of  violets  and  a  box  of  candy,  instead 
of  the  fairy  book.  He  said  he  would  n't  be 
called  *  Uncle  Bobby  *  by  anyone  as  old  as 
me  —  that  I  'd  got  to  drop  the  '  Uncle  ' — 
It  5s  funny,  you  know,  but  he  really  seems 
younger  than  he  did  seven  years  ago." 

Patty  dimpled  and  cast  a  wary  eye  toward 
the  faculty  table  across  the  room. 

"  He  says  he  has  business  quite  often  in 
this  neighborhood." 


198 


VIII 

The  Society  of  Associated 
Sirens 


VIII 

The   Society   of  Asso- 
ciated Sirens 

ONNY  had  gone  home  to  re- 
cuperate from  a  severe  attack 
of  pink-eye.  Priscilla  had 
gone  to  Porto  Rico  to  spend 
two  weeks  with  her  father  and  the  Atlantic 
Fleet.  Patty,  lonely  and  abandoned,  was 
thrown  upon  the  school  for  society;  and 
Patty  at  large,  was  very  likely  to  get  into 
trouble. 

On  the  Saturday  following  the  double  de- 
parture, she,  with  Rosalie  Patton  and  Mae 
Van  Arsdale,  made  a  trip  into  the  city  in 
charge  of  Miss  Wadsworth,  to  accomplish 
some  spring  shopping.  Patty  and  Rosalie 
each  needed  new  hats  —  besides  such  minor' 
matters  as  gloves  and  shoes  and  petticoats 
199 


Just   Patty 

—  and  Mae  was  to  have  a  fitting  for  her  new 
tailor  suit.  These  duties  performed,  the 
afternoon  was  to  be  given  over  to  relaxation ; 
at  lease  to  such  relaxation  as  a  Shakespearean 
tragedy  affords. 

But  when  they  presented  themselves  at 
the  theater,  they  were  faced  by  the  announce- 
ment that  the  star  had  met  with  an  automo- 
bile accident  on  his  way  to  the  performance, 
and  that  he  was  too  damaged  to  appear; 
money  would  be  refunded  at  the  box  office. 
The  girls  still  clamored  for  their  matinee, 
and  Miss  Wadsworth  hurriedly  cast  about 
for  a  fitting  substitute  for  Hamlet 

Miss  Wadsworth  was  middle-aged  and 
vacillating  and  easily-led  and  ladylike  and 
shockable.  She  herself  knew  that  she  had 
no  strength  of  character;  and  she  conscien- 
tiously strove  to  overcome  this  cardinal  de- 
fect in  a  chaperone,  by  stubbornly  opposing 
whatever  her  charges  elected  to  do. 

To-day  they  voted  for  a  French  farce  with 

John  Drew  as  hero.     Miss  Wadsworth  said 

"  no  "  with  all  the  firmness  she  could  assume, 

and  herself  picked  out  a  drama  entitled^  The 

200 


Society  of  Associated  Sirens 

Wizard  of  the  Nile,"  under  the  impression 
that  it  would  assist  their  knowledge  of  an- 
cient Egypt, 

But  the  Wizard  turned  out  to  be  a  recent 
and  spurious  imitation  of  the  original  his- 
torical wizard.  She  was  ultra-modern  Eng- 
lish, with  a  French  flavor.  The  time  was 
to-morrow,  and  the  scene  the  terrace  of  Shep- 
herd's Hotel.  She  wore  long,  clinging  robes 
of  chiffon  and  gold  cut  in  the  style  of  Cleo- 
patra along  Parisian  lines.  Her  rose-tinted 
ears  were  enhanced  by  drooping  earrings, 
and  her  eyes  were  cunningly  lengthened  at 
the  corners,  in  a  fetching  Egyptian  slant. 
She  was  very  beautiful  and  very  merciless; 
she  broke  every  masculine  heart  in  Cairo, 
As  a  climax  to  her  shocking  career  of  wicked- 
ness, she  smoked  cigarettes! 

Poor  bewildered  Miss  Wadsworth  sat 
through  the  four  acts,  worried,  breathless, 
horrified — 'fascinated;  but  the  three  girls 
were  simply  fascinated.  They  thrilled  over 
the  scenery  and  music  and  costumes  all  the 
way  back  in  the  train.  Cairo,  to  their  daz- 
zled eyes,  opened  up  realms  of  adventure, 
201 


Just    Patty 

undreamed  of  in  the  proper  bounds  of  St. 
Ursula's.  The  Mecca  of  all  travel  had  be- 
come Shepherd's  Hotel. 

That  night,  long  after  "  Lights-out "  had 
rung,  when  Patty's  mind  was  becoming  an 
agreeable  jumble  of  sphinxes  and  pyramids 
and  English  officers,  she  was  suddenly 
startled  wide  awake  by  feeling  two  hands 
rise  from  the  darkness  and  clutch  her  shoul- 
ders on  the  right  and  left.  She  sat  upright 
with  a  very  audible  gasp,  and  demanded  in 
unguardedly  loud  tones,  "  Who  's  that?  " 

The  two  hands  instantly  covered  her 
mouth. 

"Sh-h!  Keep  quiet!  Haven't  you  any 
sense?  " 

"  Mademoiselle's  door  is  wide  open,  and 
Lordy  's  visiting  her." 

Rosalie  perched  on  the  right  of  the  bed, 
and  Mae  Mertelle  on  the  left. 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  Patty, 
crossly. 

"  We  Ve  got  a  perfectly  splendid  idea," 
whispered  Rosalie. 

202 


Society   of  Associated   Sirens 

"  A  secret  society,"  echoed  Mae  Mer- 
telle. 

"  Let  me  alone!"  growled  Patty.  "I 
want  to  go  to  sleep." 

She  laid  down  again  in  the  narrow  space 
left  by  her  visitors.  They  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  her  inhospitality,  but  drawing  their 
bath  robes  closer  about  them,  settled  down 
to  talk.  Patty,  being  comfortably  inside 
and  warm,  while  they  shivered  outside,  was 
finally  induced  to  lend  a  drowsy  ear. 

"  I  've  thought  of  a  new  society,"  said 
Mae  Mertelle.  She  did  not  propose  to 
share  the  honor  of  creation  with  Rosalie. 
"  And  it 's  going  to  be  really  secret  this  time. 
I  'm  not  going  to  let  in  the  whole  school. 
Only  us  three.  And  this  society  has  n't  just 
a  few  silly  secrets;  it  has  an  aim." 

'*  We  're  going  to  call  it  the  Society  of 
Associated  Sirens,"  Rosalie  eagerly  broke  in. 

"  The  what?  "  demanded  Patty. 

Rosalie  rolled  off  the  sonorous  syllables  a 
second  time. 

'  The  Sho-shiety  of  Ash-sho-she-ated 
203 


Just   Patty 


Shi-rens,"    Patty   mumbled    sleepily.     "  It 's 
too  hard  to  say." 

"  Oh,  but  we  won't  call  it  that  in  public. 
The  name  's  a  secret.  We  '11  call  it  the  S. 
A.  S." 

"What's  it  for?" 

"  You  '11  promise  not  to  tell?  "  Mae  asked 
guardedly. 

"  No,  of  course  I  won't  tell." 

"  Not  even  Pris  and  Conny  when  they  get 
back?" 

"  We  '11  make  them  members,"  said 
Patty. 

"  Well  —  perhaps  —  but  this  is  the  kind 
of  society  that 's  better  small.  And  we  three 
are  the  only  ones  who  really  ought  to  be 
members,  because  we  saw  the  play.  But  any- 
how; you  must  promise  not  to  tell  unless 
Rosalie  and  I  give  you  permission.  Do  you 
promise  that?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !     I  promise.     What 's  it  for  ?  " 

"  We  're  going  to  become  sirens,"  Mae 
whispered  impressively.  '  We  're  going 
to  be  beautiful  and  fascinating  and  ruth- 
less—" 

204 


Society   of  Associated   Sirens 

"  Like  Cleopatra, "  said  Rosalie. 

"  And  avenge  ourselves  on  Man,"  added 
Mae. 

"  Avenge  ourselves  —  what  for?"  in- 
quired Patty,  somewhat  dazed. 

"  Why  —  for  —  for  —  breaking  our 
hearts  and  destroying  our  faith  in  — " 

"  My  heart  has  n't  been  broken." 
"  Not  yet,"  said  Mae  with  a  touch  of  im- 
patience, "  because  you  don't  know  any  men, 
but  you  will  know  them  some  day,  and  then 
your  heart  will  be  broken.  You  ought  to 
have  your  weapons  ready." 

"  In  time  of  peace  prepare  for  war," 
quoted  Rosalie. 

"  Do  —  you  think  it's  quite  ladylike  to 
be  a  siren?  "  asked  Patty  dubiously. 

"It's  perfectly  ladylike!"  said  Mae. 
"  Nobody  but  a  lady  could  possibly  be  one, 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  washerwoman  who 
was  a  siren?  " 

"  N-no,"  Patty  confessed.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve  I  have." 

"  And  look  at  Cleopatra,"  put  in  Rosalie. 
M  I  'm  sure  she  was  a  lady." 
205 


Just    Patty 

"  All  right!  "  Patty  agreed.  "  What  are 
we  going  to  do?  " 

"  We  're  going  to  become  beautiful  and 
fascinating,  with  a  fatal  charm  that  ensnares 
every  man  who  approaches." 

"  Do  you  think  we  can?  "  There  was 
some  doubt  in  Patty's  tone. 

"  Mae 's  got  a  book,"  put  in  Rosalie 
eagerly,  "  about  '  Beauty  and  Grace.'  You 
soak  your  face  in  oatmeal  and  almond-oil  and 
honey,  and  let  your  hair  hang  in  the  sun,  and 
whiten  your  nose  with  lemon  juice,  and  wear 
gloves  at  night,  and  — " 

"  You  really  ought  to  have  a  bath  of  asses' 
milk,"  interrupted  Mae.  "  Cleopatra  had; 
but  I  'm  afraid  it  will  be  impossible  to  get." 

"  And  you  ought  to  learn  to  sing,"  added 
Rosalie,  "  and  have  some  one  song  like  the 
*  Lorelei !  '  that  you  always  hum  when  you  're 
about  to  ensnare  a  victim." 

The  project  was  foreign  to  Patty's  ordi° 
nary  train  of  thought,  but  it  did  have  an  ele- 
ment of  novelty  and  allurement.  Neither 
Mae  nor  Rosalie  were  the  partners  she  would 
naturally  have  chosen  in  any  enterprise,  but 
206 


Society  of  Associated  Sirens 

circumstances  had  thrown  them  together  that 
day,  and  Patty  was  an  obliging  soul.  Also, 
her  natural  common  sense  was  wandering;  she 
was  still  under  the  spell  of  the  Egyptian  sor- 
ceress. 

They  discussed  the  new  society  for  several 
minutes  more,  until  they  heard  the  murmur 
of  Miss  Lord's  voice,  bidding  Mademoiselle 
goodnight. 

"There's  Lordy!  "  Patty  whispered  wa- 
rily. "  I  think  you  'd  better  go  to  bed.  We 
can  plan  the  rest  in  the  morning." 

"  Yes,  let 's,"  said  Rosalie,  with  a  shiver. 
"  I  'm  freezing !  " 

"  But  we  must  first  take  the  vow,"  insisted 
Mae  Mertelle.  "  We  ought  really  to  do  it 
at  midnight  —  but  maybe  half-past  ten  will 
do  as  well.  I  Ve  got  it  all  planned.  You 
two  say  it  after  me." 

They  joined  hands  and  whispered  in  turn: 

"  I  most  solemnly  promise  to  keep  secret 
the  name  and  object  of  this  society;  and  if  I 
break  this  oath,  may  I  become  freckled  and 
bald  and  squint-eyed  and  pigeon-toed,  now 
and  forever  more." 

207 


Just    Patty 

The  three  members  of  the  S.  A.  S.  devoted 
their  leisure  during  the  next  few  days  to  a 
careful  study  of  the  work  on  Beauty;  and 
painstakingly  set  about  putting  its  precepts 
into  practice.  Some  of  these  seemed  perplex- 
ingly  at  variance.  The  hair,  for  example, 
was  to  be  exposed  to  air  and  sunlight,  but  the 
face  was  not.  They  cleverly  circumvented 
this  difficulty  however.  The  week's  allow- 
ance went  for  chamois-skin.  During  every 
recreation  hour,  they  retired  to  an  airy  knoll 
in  the  lower  pasture,  and  sat  in  a  patient 
row,  with  hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  and 
faces  protected  by  homemade  masks. 

One  afternoon,  a  little  Junior  A,  wandering 
far  afield  in  a  game  of  hide-and-seek,  came 
upon  them  unawares;  and  returned  to  the  safe 
confines  of  the  playground  with  frightened 
shrieks.  Dark  rumors  began  to  float  about 
the  school  as  to  the  aim  and  scope  of  the  new 
society.  Suggestion  ranged  all  the  way  from 
Indian  squaws  to  Druid  priestesses. 

They  almost  met  with  disaster  while  ac- 
quiring the  ingredients  of  the  oatmeal  poul- 
tice. The  oatmeal  and  lemon  were  compar- 
208 


Society   of  Associated   Sirens 

atively  easy;  the  cook  supplied  them  without 
much  fuss.  But  she  stuck  at  the  honey. 
There  were  jars  and  jars  of  strained  honey  in 
'the  storeroom ;  but  the  windows  were  barred, 
and  the  key  was  in  the  bottom  of  Nora's 
pocket.  Confronted  by  the  immediate  ne- 
cessity of  becoming  beautiful,  they  could  not 
placidly  sit  down  for  five  days,  and  wait  for 
the  weekly  shopping  trip  to  the  village.  Be- 
sides, with  a  teacher  in  attendance,  there 
would  be  no  possible  chance  of  making  the 
purchase.  Honey  was  a  contraband  article, 
in  the  same  class  with  candy  and  jam  and 
pickles. 

They  discussed  the  feasibility  of  filing 
through  the  iron  gratings,  or  of  chloroform- 
ing Nora  and  stealing  the  key,  but  in  the  end 
Patty  accomplished  the  matter  by  the  use  of 
a  little  simple  blarney.  She  dropped  into  the 
kitchen  one  afternoon  with  the  plaintive  ad- 
mission that  she  was  hungry.  Nora  hastened 
to  supply  a  glass  of  milk  and  a  piece  of  bread 
and  butter,  while  Patty  perched  on  a  corner 
of  the  carving-table  and  settled  herself  for 
conversation.  The  girls  were  not  supposed 
14  209 


Just   Patty 

to  visit  the  kitchen,  but  the  law  was  never 
rigidly  enforced.  Nora  was  a  social  soul  and 
she  welcomed  callers.  Patty  praised  the  ap- 
ple dumplings  of  last  night's  dessert;  pro- 
gressed from  that  to  a  discussion  of  the  en- 
gaging young  plumber  who  at  the  moment 
claimed  all  of  Nora's  thoughts;  then,  by  a 
natural  transition,  she  passed  to  honey. 
Before  she  left,  she  had  obtained  Nora's 
promise  to  substitute  it  for  marmalade  the 
next  morning  at  breakfast. 

The  members  of  the  S.  A.  S.  brought  pin- 
trays  to  the  meal,  and  unobtrusively  trans- 
ferred a  supply  from  their  plates  to  their 
laps. 

But  even  so,  disaster  still  threatened. 
Patty  had  the  misfortune  to  collide  with  Eva- 
lina  Smith  in  the  upper  hall,  and  she  dropped 
her  pin-tray,  honey-side  down,  in  the  middle 
of  the  rug.  At  the  same  instant,  Miss  Lord 
bore  down  upon  her  from  the  end  of  the  cor- 
ridor. Patty  was  a  young  person  of  re- 
source; the  emergency  of  the  moment  rarely 
found  her  napping.  She  plumped  down  on 
her  knees  in  the  midst  of  the  puddle,  and  with 
210 


Society  of  Associated  Sirens 

widespread     skirts,     commenced     frantically 
searching  for  an  imaginary  stick-pin. 

"  Is  it  necessary  for  you  to  block  up  the 
entire  hall?  "  was  Miss  Lord's  only  comment 
as  she  passed. 

The  rug  was  happily  reversible,  and  by  the 
simple  process  of  turning  it  over,  Patty  satis- 
factorily cleaned  up  the  mess.  The  other 
two  girls  were  generous,  and  shared  their 
supply:  so  in  the  end  she  obtained  her 
honey. 

For  three  wakeful  nights  they  stuck  to  the 
poultice  —  though  perhaps  it  would  be  more 
accurate  to  say  that  the  poultice  stuck  to  them. 
In  spite  of  many  washings  in  hot  water,  their 
faces  became  noticeably  scaly. 

Miss  Sallie,  who  represented  St.  Ursula's 
board  of  health,  met  Patty  Wyatt  in  the  hall 
one  morning.  She  took  her  by  the  chin  and 
turned  her  to  the  light.  Patty  squirmed  em- 
barrassedly. 

"  My  dear  child !  What  is  the  matter 
with  your  face?  " 

"I  —  I  don't  know  —  exactly.     It  seems 
sort  of  —  of  —  dandruffy." 
211 


Just    Patty 

"  I  should  think  it  didl  What  have  you 
been  eating?  " 

"  Only  what  I  get  at  meals,"  said  Patty, 
relievedly  telling  the  truth. 

"  There  's  something  the  matter  with  your 
blood,"  diagnosed  Miss  Sallie.  "  What  you 
need  is  a  tonic.  I  shall  prescribe  boneset 


tea." 


"Oh,  Miss  Sallie!"  Patty  earnestly  re- 
monstrated. "  I  don't  need  it,  really.  I  'm 
sure  I  '11  be  all  right."  She  had  tried  boneset 
tea  before ;  it  was  the  bitterest  brew  that  was 
ever  concocted. 

When  Miss  Sallie  met  Mae  Van  Arsdale 
suffering  from  the  same  complaint,  and  later 
still,  Rosalie  Patton,  she  commenced  to  be 
perturbed.  The  apple  trees  under  her  care 
at  the  farm  had  been  afflicted  that  spring 
with  San  Jose  scale,  but  she  had  hardly  ex- 
pected the  disease  to  spread  to  the  school 
girls.  That  afternoon  she  superintended  an 
infusion  of  boneset,  of  gigantic  proportions, 
and  at  bedtime  a  reluctant  school  formed  in 
line  and  filed  past  Miss  Sallie,  who,  ladle  in 
hand,  presided  over  the  punch  bowl.  Each 
212 


Each  received  a  flowing  cupful 


Society  of  Associated  Sirens 

received  a  flowing  cupful  and  drank  it  with 
what  grace  she  might,  until  Patty's  turn  came. 
She  disposed  of  hers  in  a  blue  china  umbrella 
holder  which  stood  in  the  hall  behind  Miss 
Sallie's  back.  The  remainder  of  the  line  suc- 
cessfully followed  her  lead. 

Miss  Sallie  watched  her  little  charges 
closely  for  the  next  few  days;  and  sure 
enough,  the  scales  disappeared.  (The  Asso- 
ciated Sirens  had  discarded  poultices.)  She 
was  more  than  ever  convinced  of  the  efficacy 
of  boneset. 

Shortly  after  the  founding  of  the  society, 
Mae  Mertelle  returned  from  a  week-end  visit 
to  her  home.  (Her  mother  was  ill  and  she 
had  been  sent  for.  Someone  in  Mae's  fam- 
ily was  conveniently  ill  a  great  deal  of  the 
time. )  She  brought  with  her  three  bracelets 
of  linked  scales  representing  a  serpent  swal- 
lowing his  tail.  S.  A.  S.  in  tiny  letters  was 
engraved  between  the  emerald  eyes. 

*  They  are  perfectly  sweet!"  said  Patty, 
with  grateful  appreciation.  "  But  why  a 
snake?" 

"  It  isn't  a  snake;  it's  a  serpent,"  Mae 
213 


Just    Patty 

explained.  ;<  To  represent  Cleopatra.  She 
was  the  Serpent  of  the  Nile.  We  '11  be  Ser- 
pents of  the  Hudson." 

With  the  appearance  of  the  bracelets,  curi- 
osity in  the  S.  A.  S.  increased,  but  unlike  the 
other  secret  societies  which  had  appeared 
from  time  to  time,  its  raison  d'etre  remained 
a  mystery.  The  school  really  commenced  to 
believe  that  the  society  had  a  secret.  Miss 
Lord,  who  had  the  reputation  of  being 
curious,  stopped  Patty  one  day  as  she  was 
leaving  the  Virgil  class,  and  admired  the  new 
bracelet. 

"  And  what  may  be  the  meaning  of  S.  A. 
S.  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  It 's  a  secret  society,"  said  Patty. 

"  Ah,  a  secret  society!"  Miss  Lord 
smiled.  "  Then  I  suppose  the  name  is  a 
DEEP  MYSTERY."  She  lowered  her  voice,  as 
she  said  it,  to  sepulchral  depths. 

There  was  something  peculiarly  irritating 
about  Miss  Lord's  manner;  it  always  sug- 
gested that  she  was  amused  by  the  vagaries 
of  her  little  pupils.  She  did  not  possess  Miss 
Sallie's  happy  faculty  of  meeting  them  on  a 
214 


Society   of  Associated   Sirens 

level.     Miss  Lord  peered  down  from  above 
(through  lorgnettes). 

"  Of  course  the  name  is  a  secret,"  said 
Patty.  "If  that  got  out,  it  would  give  the 
whole  thing  away." 

"  And  what  is  the  object  of  this  famous  so- 
ciety? Or  is  that  too  a  secret?  " 

'  Why,  yes,  that  is,  I  must  n't  tell  you  ex- 
actly." 

Patty  smiled  up  at  Miss  Lord  with  the  in- 
nocent, seraphic  gaze  that  always  warned 
those  who  knew  her  best  that  it  was  wisest  to 
let  her  alone. 

"  It 's  a  sort  of  branch  of  the  Sunshine  So- 
ciety," she  added  confidentially.  "  We  're  to 
—  well  —  to  smile  on  people,  you  know,  and 
make  them  like  us." 

"  I  see!  "  said  Miss  Lord,  with  an  air  of 
friendly  understanding.  "  Then  S.  A.  S. 
stands  for  '  Sunshine  and  Smiles?  '  " 

"  Oh,  please !  You  must  n't  say  it  out 
loud,"  Patty  lowered  her  voice  and  threw 
an  anxious  glance  over  her  shoulder. 

"  I   would  n't   tell   anybody    for   worlds," 
Miss  Lord  promised  solemnly. 
215 


Just    Patty 


"  Thank  you,"  said  Patty.  "  It  would  be 
dreadful  if  it  got  out." 

"  It  is  a  very  sweet,  womanly  society," 
Miss  Lord  added  approvingly.  "  But  you 
ought  not  to  keep  it  all  to  yourselves.  Can't 
you  let  me  be  an  honorary  member  of  the  S. 
A.  S.?" 

"Certainly,  Miss  Lord!"  said  Patty 
sweetly.  "  If  you  care  to  belong,  we  should 
love  to  have  you." 

"  Lordy  wants  to  be  a  Siren !  "  she  an- 
nounced to  her  two  fellow  members  when  she 
met  them  shortly  in  the  gymnasium.  The 
account  of  the  interview  was  received  with 
hilarity.  Miss  Lord  was  anything  but  the 
accepted  type  of  siren. 

"  I  thought  a  few  smiles  might  relieve  the 
gloom  of  Latin  class,"  Patty  explained.  "  It 
amuses  Lordy  to  think  she  's  helping  the  chil- 
dren in  their  play ;  and  it  does  n't  hurt  the 
children." 

For  a  time  the  S.  A.  S.  flourished  with  the 

natural  health  of  youth,  but  as  the  novelty 

wore  off,  the  business  of  becoming  beautiful 

grew  onerous.     Mae  and  Rosalie  continued 

216 


Society   of  Associated  Sirens 

to  study  the  beauty  book  with  dogged  perse- 
verance,—  the  subject  lay  along  the  line  of 
their  natural  ambitions  —  but  Patty  felt  other 
matters  calling.  Spring  field  sports  had  com- 
menced, and  the  nearness  of  the  annual  match 
with  Highland-Hall,  crowded  out  her  interest 
in  cold  cream  and  almond  meal.  She  and 
Mae  were  not  naturally  simpatica,  and  in 
spite  of  Mae's  insistence,  Patty  became  an 
apathetic  siren. 

One  Saturday  just  after  the  spring  recess, 
Patty  received  permission  to  lunch  in  town 
with  "  Uncle  Bobby."  He  was  an  uncle  by 
courtesy  only,  but  Patty  had  failed  to  inform 
the  Dowager  that  the  title  was  not  his  by 
natural  right.  She  knew  well  what  the  result 
would  be.  It  is  quite  proper  to  have  luncheon 
with  an  uncle;  and  quite  improper  with  even 
the  oldest  and  baldest  of  family  friends. 

When  the  "  hearse  "  returned  from  the  sta- 
tion at  dusk  with  Mademoiselle  and  the  city 
contingent,  Rosalie  Patton  was  waiting  the 
arrival  on  the  porte  cochere.  She  separated 
Patty  from  the  group  and  whispered  in  her 
ear. 

217 


Just    Patty 


"  The  most  awful  thing  has  happened! >: 

"What?"  Patty  demanded. 

11  The  S.  A.  S.     All  is  discovered!  " 

"  Not  really!  "  cried  Patty,  aghast. 

"Yes!     Come  in  here." 

Rosalie  drew  her  into  the  empty  cloak» 
room  and  shut  the  door. 

"  You  mean  —  they  Ve  found  out  the 
name  —  and  everything?"  Patty  demanded 
breathlessly. 

"  Not  quite  everything,  but  they  would 
have  if  it  had  n't  been  for  Lordy.  She  saved 


us." 


"  Lordy  saved  us !  "  There  was  incre- 
dulity mixed  with  Patty's  horror.  "  What  do 
you  mean?  " 

"  Well,  yesterday,  Mae  went  shopping  in 
the  village  with  Miss  Wadsworth  —  and  you 
know  what  kind  of  a  chaperone  Waddy 
makes."  Patty  nodded  impatiently.  "  Any- 
body could  fool  her.  And  Mae,  right  under 
her  very  nose,  commenced  a  flirtation  with 
the  Soda-Water  Clerk." 

"Oh!"  said  Patty  hotly,  "How  per- 
fectly horrid  I" 

218 


Society   of  Associated   Sirens 

"  She  did  n't  care  anything  about  it,  really. 
She  was  just  trying  to  put  the  principles  of 
the  S.  A.  S.  into  practice." 

"  She  might  at  least  have  picked  out  some- 
body decent!  " 

"  Well,  he  is  quite  decent.  He  's  engaged 
to  the  girl  at  the  underwear  counter  in  Blood- 
good's,  and  he  did  n't  want  to  be  flirted  with 
a  bit.  But  you  know  how  persistent  Mae 
Mertelle  is,  when  she  makes  up  her  mind. 
The  poor  young  man  just  could  n't  help  him- 
self. He  was  so  embarrassed  that  he  did  n't 
know  what  he  was  doing.  He  gave  Hester 
Pringle  half  chocolate  and  half  sarsaparilla, 
and  she  says  it  was  a  perfectly  awful  combina- 
tion. It  made  her  feel  so  sick  that  she 
could  n't  eat  any  dinner.  And  all  this  time 
Waddy  just  sat  and  smiled  into  space  and 
saw  nothing;  but  all  the  girls  saw, —  and  so 
did  the  drugstore  man!" 

"  Oh!  "  said  Patty  breathlessly. 

"  And  this  morning  Miss  Sallie  went  to  the 
drugstore  to  get  some  potash  for  Harriet 
Gladden's  sore  throat,  and  he  told  her  all 
about  it." 

219 


Just   Patty 


"  What  did  Miss  Sallie  do?  "  Patty  asked 
faintly. 

"  Do!  She  came  back  with  blood  in  her 
eye,  and  told  the  Dowager,  and  they  called  up 
Mae  Mertelle  and  then — "  Rosalie  closed 
her  eyes  and  shuddered. 

"  Well,"  said  Patty  impatiently.  "  What 
happened?  " 

;<  The  Dowager  was  perfectly  outraged! 
She  told  Mae  that  she  had  disgraced  the 
school  and  that  she  would  be  expelled.  And 
she  wrote  a  telegram  to  Mae's  father  to  come 
and  take  her  away.  And  she  asked  Mae  if 
she  had  anything  to  say  for  herself,  and  Mae 
said  it  was  n't  her  fault.  That  you  and  I 
were  to  blame  just  as  much  as  she,  because 
we  were  all  in  a  society  together,  but  that 
she  could  n't  tell  about  it  because  she  'd 


sworn." 


"  Beast !  "  said  Patty. 

"  So  then  they  sent  for  me  and  commenced 
asking  questions  about  the  S.  A.  S.  I  tried 
not  to  tell,  but  you  know  the  way  the  Dow- 
ager looks  when  she 's  angry.  Even  a 
sphinx  would  break  down  and  tell  everything 
220 


Society  of  Associated  Sirens 

it  knew,  and  I  never  did  pretend  to  be  a 
sphinx.'* 

"  All  right,"  said  Patty,  bracing  herself  for 
the  shock.  "  What  did  they  say  when  they 
heard?" 

"They  didn't  hear!  I  was  just  on  the 
point  of  breaking  my  vows  and  telling  all, 
when  who  should  pop  in  but  Lordy.  And 
she  was  perfectly  splendid!  She  said  she 
knew  all  about  the  S.  A.  S.  That  it  was  a 
very  admirable  institution,  and  that  she  was 
a  member  herself!  She  said  it  was  a  branch 
of  the  Sunshine  Society,  and  that  Mae  had 
never  meant  to  flirt  with  the  young  man. 
She  had  just  meant  to  smile  and  be  kind  to 
everybody  she  came  in  contact  with,  and  he 
had  taken  advantage.  And  Mae  said,  yes, 
that  was  the  way  of  it,  and  she  shoved  off  all 
the  blame  on  that  poor  innocent  soda-water 
clerk." 

"  Just  like  her,"  Patty  nodded. 

"  And  now  Mae  is  perfectly  furious  with 

him  for  getting  her  into  trouble.     She  says 

that  he  's  a  horrid  little  thing  with  a  turn-up 

nose,   and  that  she  '11  never  drink  another 

221 


Just   Patty 

glass  of  soda-water,  as  long  as  she  stays  In 
St.  Ursula's." 

"And  they're  going  to  let  her  stay?" 

"  Yes.  The  Dowager  tore  up  the  tele- 
gram. But  she  gave  Mae  ten  demerits,  and 
made  her  go  without  dessert  for  a  week,  and 
learn  Thanatopsis  by  heart.  'And  she  can't 
jver  go  shopping  in  the  village  any  more. 
When  she  needs  new  hair  ribbons  or  stock- 
ings or  anything,  she  must  send  for  them  by 
some  of  the  other  girls." 

"  And  what 's  the  Dowager  going  to  do 
to  us?" 

"  Nothing  at  all  —  and  if  it  had  n't  been 
for  Lordy,  we  'd  all  three  have  been  ex- 
pelled." 

"  And  I  Ve  always  detested  Lordy,"  said 
Patty  contritely.  "  Is  n't  it  dreadful?  You 
simply  can't  keep  enemies.  Just  as  you  think 
people  are  perfectly  horrid,  and  begin  to  en- 
joy hating  them,  they  all  of  a  sudden  turn  out 


nice." 


"  I  hate  Mae  Mertelle,"  said  Rosalie. 
"  So  do  I!  "  Patty  agreed  cordially. 
"  I  'm  going  to  leave  her  old  society." 
222 


Society  of  Associated  Sirens 

"  I  'm  already  out."  Patty  glanced  to- 
ward the  mirror.  "  And  I  'm  not  freckled 
and  I  'm  not  squint-eyed  " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Rosalie  stared; 
she  had  for  the  moment  forgotten  the  dread 
nature  of  the  oath. 

"  I  Ve  told  Uncle  Bobby." 

"  Oh,  Patty !     How  could  you  ?  " 

"I  —  I  —  that  is — "  Patty  appeared 
momentarily  confused.  "  You  see,"  she  con- 
fessed, "  I  thought  myself  that  it  would  be 
sort  of  interesting  to  practice  on  somebody, 
so  I  —  I  —  just  tried — " 

"  And  did  he  — " 

Patty  shook  her  head. 

"  It  was  awfully  uphill  work.  He  never 
helped  a  bit.  And  then  he  noticed  my  brace- 
let and  wanted  to  knew  what  S.  A.  S.  meant. 
And  before  I  knew  it,  I  was  telling  him !  " 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"First  he  roared;  then  he  got  awfully 
sober,  and  he  gave  me  a  long  lecture  —  it  was 
really  very  impressive  —  sort  of  like  Sun- 
day School,  you  know.  And  he  took  the 
bracelet  away  from  me  and  put  it  in  his 
223 


Just   Patty 

pocket.     He  told  me  he  'd  send  me  something 


nicer." 


"What  do  you  s'pose  it  will  be?"  asked 
Rosalie  interestedly. 

"  I  hope  it  won't  be  a  doll  I  " 

Two  days  later  the  morning  mail  brought 
a  small  parcel  for  Miss  Patty  Wyatt.  She 
opened  it  under  her  desk  in  geometry  class. 
Buried  in  jeweler's  cotton  she  found  a  gold 
linked  bracelet  that  fastened  with  a  padlock 
ia  the  shape  of  a  heart.  On  the  back  of  one 
of  Uncle  Bobby's  cards  was  written :  — 

"  This  is  your  heart.  Keep  it  locked  until 
the  chap  turns  up  who  has  the  key." 

Patty  deflected  Rosalie  as  she  was  turning 
into  French  and  privately  exhibited  the  brace- 
let. 

Rosalie  regarded  it  with  sentimental  in- 
terest. 

"What  has  he  done  with  the  key?"  she 
wondered. 

"  I  s'pose,"  said  Patty,  "  he  's  got  it  in  his 
pocket." 

"How  awfully  romantic!" 
224 


Society  of  Associated  Sirens 

"  It  sounds  sort  of  romantic/'  Patty  agreed 
with  the  suggestion  of  a  sigh.  "  But  it  is  n't 
really.  He  's  thirty  years  old,  and  beginning 
to  be  bald." 


IX 

The   Reformation   of 
Kid   McCoy 


IX 

The  Reformation  of 
Kid  McCoy 

ISS  McCOY,  of  Texas,  had 
been  subjected  to  the  soften- 
ing influences  of  St.  Ursula's 
School  for  three  years,  with- 
out any  perceptible  result.  She  was  the 
toughest  little  tomboy  that  was  ever  received 
—  and  retained  —  in  a  respectable  boarding- 
school. 

"  Margarite  "  was  the  name  her  parents 
had  chosen,  when  the  itinerant  bishop  made 
his  quarterly  visit  to  the  mining-camp  where 
she  happened  to  be  born.  It  was  the  name 
still  used  by  her  teachers,  and  on  the  written 
reports  that  were  mailed  monthly  to  her 
Texas  guardian.  But  "  Kid  "  was  the  more 
appropriate  name  that  the  cowboys  on  the 
229 


Just   Patty 

ranch  had  given  her;  and  "Kid"  she  re- 
mained at  St.  Ursula's,  in  spite  of  the  dis- 
tressed expostulation  of  the  ladies  in  charge. 

Kid's  childhood  had  been  picturesque  to  a 
degree  rarely  found  outside  the  pages  of  a 
Nick  Carter  novel.  She  had  possessed  an 
adventurous  father,  who  drifted  from  min- 
ing-camp to  mining-camp,  making  fortunes 
and  losing  them.  She  had  cut  her  teeth  on 
a  poker  chip,  and  drunk  her  milk  from  a 
champagne  glass.  Her  father  had  died  — 
quite  opportunely  —  while  his  latest  fortune 
was  at  its  height,  and  had  left  his  little 
daughter  to  the  guardianship  of  an  English 
friend  who  lived  in  Texas.  The  next  three 
turbulent  years  of  her  life  were  spent  on  a 
cattle  range  with  "  Guardie,"  and  the  ensu- 
ing three  in  the  quiet  confines  of  St.  Ursula's. 

The  guardian  had  brought  her  himself, 
and  after  an  earnest  conference  with  the 
Dowager,  had  left  her  behind  to  be  molded 
by  the  culture  of  the  East.  But  so  far,  the 
culture  of  the  East  had  left  her  untouched. 
If  any  molding  had  taken  place,  it  was  Kid 
herself  who  shaped  the  clay. 
230 


Reformation   of  Kid   McCoy 

Her  spicy  reminiscences  of  mining-camps 
and  cattle  ranches  made  all  permissible  works 
of  fiction  tame.  She  had  given  the  French 
dancing  master,  who  was  teaching  them  a 
polite  version  of  a  Spanish  waltz,  an  exposi- 
tion of  the  real  thing,  as  practised  by  the 
Mexican  cow-punchers  on  her  guardian's 
ranch.  It  was  a  performance  that  left  him 
sympathetically  breathless.  The  English 
riding  master,  who  came  weekly  in  the  spring 
and  autumn,  to  teach  the  girls  a  correct  trot, 
had  received  a  lesson  in  bareback  riding  that 
caused  the  dazed  query : 

'*  Was  the  young  lady  trained  in  a  circus?  " 

The  Kid  was  noisy  and  slangy  and  romp- 
ing and  boisterous;  her  way  was  beset  with 
reproofs  and  demerits  and  minor  punish- 
ments, but  she  had  never  yet  been  guilty  of 
any  actual  felony.  For  three  years,  how- 
ever, St.  Ursula's  had  been  holding  its  breath 
waiting  for  the  crash.  Miss  McCoy,  from 
her  very  nature,  was  bound  to  give  them  a 
sensation  sometime. 

When  at  last  it  came,  it  was  of,  an  entirely 
unexpected  order.. 

231 


Just    Patty 


Rosalie  Patton  was  the  Kid's  latest  room- 
mate —  she  wore  her  room-mates  out  as  fast 
as  she  did  her  shoes.  Rosalie  was  a  lovable 
little  soul,  the  essence  of  everything  feminine. 
The  Dowager  had  put  the  two  together,  in 
the  hope  that  Rosalie's  gentle  example  might 
calm  the  Kid's  tempestuous  mood.  But  so 
far,  the  Kid  was  in  her  usual  spirits,  while 
Rosalie  was  looking  worn. 

Then  the  change  came. 

Rosalie  burst  into  Patty  Wyatt's  room  one 
evening  in  a  state  of  wide-eyed  amazement. 

"  What  do  you  think?  "  she  cried.  "  Kid 
McCoy  says  she  's  going  to  be  a  lady !  " 

11 A  what?"  Patty  emerged  from  the 
bath  towel  with  which  she  had  been  polishing 
her  face. 

"  A  lady.  She  's  sitting  down  now,  run- 
ning pale  blue  baby  ribbon  through  the  em- 
broidery in  her  night  gown." 

"  What 's  happened  to  her?  "  was  Patty's 
question. 

"  She 's  been  reading  a  book  that  Mae 
Mertelle  brought  back." 

Rosalie  settled  herself,  Turk  fashion,  on 
232 


Reformation  of  Kid  McCoy 

the  window  seat,  disposed  the  folds  of  her 
pink  kimono  in  graceful  billows  about  her 
knees,  and  allowed  two  braids  of  curly  yel- 
low hair  to  hang  picturesquely  over  her 
shoulders.  She  was  ready  for  bed  and  could 
extend  her  call  until  the  last  stroke  of  the 
"  Lights-out "  bell. 

"What  kind  of  a  book?"  asked  Patty, 
with  a  slightly  perfunctory  note  in  her 
voice. 

Rosalie  was  apt  to  burst  into  one's  room 
with  a  startling  announcement  and  then, 
having  engaged  everybody's  attention,  settle 
down  to  an  endless,  meandering  recital 
sprinkled  with  anti-climaxes. 

"  It 's  about  a  sweet  young  English  girl 
whose  father  owned  a  tea  estate  in  Asia  — 
or  maybe  Africa.  But  anyway,  where  it  was 
hot,  and  there  were  a  lot  of  natives  and 
snakes  and  centipedes.  Her  mother  died 
and  she  was  sent  back  home  to  boarding- 
school  when  she  was  a  tiny  little  thing.  Her 
father  was  quite  bad.  He  drank  and  swore 
and  smoked.  The  only  thing  that  kept  him 
from  being  awfully  bad,  was  the  thought  of 

233 


Just   Patty 

his    sweet   little    golden-haired    daughter    in 
England." 

"  Well,  what  of  it?  "  Patty  inquired,  po- 
litely suppressing  a  yawn.  Rosalie  had  a 
way  of  trailing  off  into  golden-haired  senti- 
ment if  one  did  n't  haul  her  up  sharp. 

"  Just  wait !  I  'm  coming  to  it.  When 
she  was  seventeen  she  went  back  to  India  to 
take  care  of  her  father,  but  almost  right  off 
he  got  a  sunstroke  and  died.  And  on  his 
death-bed  he  entrusted  Rosamond  —  that 
was  her  name  —  to  his  best  friend  to  finish 
bringing  up.  So  then  Rosamond  went  to 
live  with  her  guardian,  and  took  charge 
of  his  bungalow  and  made  it  beautiful  and 
homelike  and  comfortable  —  she  would  n't 
let  him  drink  or  smoke  or  swear  any  more. 
And  as  he  looked  back  over  the  past  — " 

"  He  was  eaten  with  remorse  at  the 
thought  of  the  wasted  years,"  Patty  glibly 
supplied,  "  and  wished  that  he  had  lived  so 
as  to  be  more  worthy  of  the  sweet,  womanly 
influence  that  had  come  into  his  wicked  lifo." 

"  You  Ve  read  it!  "  said  Rosalie. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Patty. 
234 


Reformation   of  Kid   McCoy 

"  Anyway,"  said  Rosalie,  with  an  air  of 
challenge,  "  they  fell  in  love  and  were  mar- 
ried—" 

"  And  her  father  and  mother,  looking 
down  from  heaven,  smiled  a  blessing  on  the 
dear  little  daughter  who  had  brought  so 
much  happiness  to  a  lonely  heart?  " 

"  Um  —  yes,"  agreed  Rosalie,  doubt- 
fully. 

There  was  no  amount  of  sentiment  that 
she  would  not  swallow,  but  she  knew  from 
mortifying  experience  that  Patty  was  not 
equally  voracious. 

"  It 's  a  very  touching  story,"  Patty  com- 
mented, "  but  where  does  Kid  McCoy  come 
in?" 

"  Why,  don't  you  see?  "  Rosalie's  violet 
eyes  were  big  with  interest.  "  It 's  exactly 
Kid's  own  story!  I  realized  it  the  minute 
I  saw  the  book,  and  I  had  the  awfulest  time 
making  her  read  it.  She  made  fun  of  it 
at  first,  but  after  she  'd  really  got  into  it,  she 
appreciated  the  resemblance.  She  says  now 
it  was  the  Hand  of  Fate." 

11  Kid's    story?     What    are    you    talking 
235 


Just   Patty 

about?  "  Patty  was  commencing  to  be  inter- 
ested. 

"  Kid  has  a  wicked  English  guardian  just 
like  the  Rosamond  in  the  book.  Anyway, 
he  's  English,  and  she  thinks  probably  he  's 
wicked.  Most  ranchmen  are.  He  lives  all 
alone  with  only  cow-punchers  for  compan- 
ions, and  he  needs  a  sweet  womanly  influ- 
ence in  his  home.  So  Kid  's  decided  to  be  a 
lady,  and  go  back  and  marry  Guardie,  and 
make  him  happy  for  the  rest  of  his  life." 

Patty  laid  herself  on  the  bed  and  rolled 
in  glee.  Rosalie  rose  and  regarded  her  with 
a  touch  of  asperity. 

"  I  don't  see  anything  so  funny  —  7  think 
it 's  very  romantic." 

"  Kid  exerting  a  sweet  womanly  influ- 
ence !  "  Patty  gurgled.  "  She  can't  even  pre- 
tend she  's  a  lady  for  an  hour.  If  you  think 
she  can  stay  one  — " 

"  Love,"  pronounced  Rosalie,  "  has  ac- 
complished greater  wonders  than  that  —  you 
wait  and  see." 

And  the  school  did  see.  Kid  McCoy's  ref- 
ormation became  the  sensation  of  the  year. 
236 


Reformation  of  Kid  McCoy 

The  teachers  attributed  the  felicitous  change 
in  her  deportment  to  the  good  influence  of 
Rosalie,  and  though  they  were  extremely  re- 
lieved, they  did  not  expect  it  to  last.  But 
week  followed  week,  and  it  did  last. 

Kid  McCoy  no  longer  answered  to  "  Kid." 
She  requested  her  friends  to  call  her  "  Mar- 
garite."  She  dropped  slang  and  learned  to 
embroider;  she  sat  through  European  Travel 
and  Art  History  nights  with  clasped  hands 
and  a  sweetly  pensive  air,  where  she  used  to 
drive  her  neighbors  wild  by  a  solid  hour  of 
squirming.  Voluntarily,  she  set  herself  to 
practising  scales.  The  reason  she  confided 
to  Rosalie,  and  Rosalie  to  the  rest  of  the 
school. 

They  needed  the  softening  influence  of 
music  on  the  ranch.  One-eyed  Joe  played 
the  accordion,  and  that  was  all  the  music  they 
had.  The  school  saw  visions  of  the  trans- 
formed Margarite,  dressed  in  white,  sitting 
before  the  piano  in  the  twilight  singing 
softly  the  "  Rosary,"  while  Guardie  watched 
her  with  folded  arms;  and  the  cowboys,  with 
bowie  knives  sheathed  in  their  boots,  and 
237 


Just    Patty 

lariats  peacefully  coiled  over  their  shoulders, 
gathered  by  the  open  window. 

Lenten  services  that  year,  instead  of  being 
forcibly  endured  by  a  rebellious  Kid,  were 
attended  by  a  sweetly  reverent  Margarite. 
The  entire  school  felt  an  electric  thrill  at 
sight  of  Miss  McCoy  walking  up  the  aisle 
with  downcast  eyes,  and  hands  demurely 
clasping  her  prayer  book.  Usually  she 
looked  as  much  in  place  in  the  stained-glass 
atmosphere  of  Trinity  Chapel  as  an  un- 
broken broncho  colt. 

This  amazing  reform  continued  for  seven 
weeks.  The  school  was  almost  beginning  to 
forget  that  there  was  ever  a  time  when  Kid 
McCoy  was  not  a  lady. 

Then  one  day  a  letter  came  from  Guardie 
with  the  news  that  he  was  coming  East  to 
visit  his  little  girl.  Subdued  excitement  pre- 
vailed in  the  South  Corridor.  Rosalie  and 
Margarite  and  an  assemblage  of  neighbors 
held  earnest  conferences  as  to  what  she 
should  wear  and  how  she  should  behave. 
They  finally  decided  upon  white  muslin  and 
blue  ribbons.  They  pondered  a  long  time 

238 


Reformation   of  Kid   McCoy 

over  whether  or  not  she  should  kiss  him,  but 
Rosalie  decided  in  the  negative. 

"  When  he  sees  you,"  she  explained,  "  the 
realization  will  sweep  over  him  that  you  are 
no  longer  a  child.  You  have  grown  to 
womanhood  in  the  past  three  years.  And  he 
will  feel  unaccountably  shy  in  your  presence." 

"  Um,"  said  Margarite,  with  a  slightly 
doubtful  note.  "  I  hope  so." 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  that  Guardie  arrived. 
The  school  —  in  a  body  —  flattened  its  nose 
against  the  window  watching  his  approach. 
They  had  rather  hoped  for  a  flannel  shirt 
and  boots  and  spurs,  and,  in  any  case,  for  a 
sombrero.  But  the  horrible  truth  must  be 
told.  He  wore  a  frock  coat  of  the  most  un- 
impeachable cut,  with  a  silk  hat  and  a  stick, 
and  a  white  gardenia  in  his  buttonhole.  To 
look  at  him,  one  would  swear  that  he  had 
never  seen  a  pistol  or  a  lariat.  He  was  born 
to  pass  the  plate  in  church. 

But  the  worst  is  still  to  tell. 

He  had  planned  a  surprise  for  his  little 
ward.  When  she  should  come  back  to  the 
ranch,  it  would  be  to  a  real  home.  A  sweet, 
239 


Just    Patty 

womanly  influence  would  have  transformed 
it  into  a  fitting  abode  for  a  young  girl. 
Guardie  was  not  alone.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  his  bride  —  a  tall,  fair,  beautiful 
woman  with  a  low  voice  and  gracious  man- 
ners. She  sang  for  the  girls  after  dinner, 
and  as  sixty-four  pairs  of  eyes  studied  the 
beautiful  presence,  sixty-four  —  no,  sixty- 
three  —  of  her  auditors  decided  to  grow  up 
to  be  exactly  like  her.  Margarite  did  the 
honors  in  a  state  of  dazed  incomprehension. 
Her  make-believe  world  of  seven  weeks  had 
crumbled  in  an  hour,  and  she  had  not  had 
time  to  readjust  herself.  Never  —  she  re- 
alized it  perfectly  —  could  she  have  com- 
peted in  femininity  with  Gusifdie's  wife.  It 
was  n't  in  her,  not  even  if  she  had  commenced 
to  practise  from  the  cradle. 

They  went  back  to  the  city  in  the  evening, 
and  before  the  entire  school,  Guardie  patted 
her  on  the  head  and  told  her  to  be  a  good 
little  kiddie  and  mind  her  teachers.  His 
wife,  with  a  protecting  arm  about  her  shoul- 
ders, kissed  her  forehead  and  called  her 
"  dear  little  daughter." 
240 


Reformation   of  Kid   McCoy 

After  evensong  on  Sundays,  came  two 
hours  of  freedom.  The  teachers  gathered 
in  the  Dowager's  study  for  coffee  and  con- 
versation, and  the  girls  presumably  wrote 
letters  home.  But  that  night,  the  South  Cor- 
ridor followed  no  such  peaceful  occupation. 
Margarite  McCoy  experienced  a  reversion  to 
type.  In  her  own  picturesque  language,  she 
"  shot  up  the  town." 

The  echoes  of  the  orgie  at  last  reached  the 
kaffee  klatsch  below.  Miss  Lord  came  to 
investigate  —  and  she  came  on  her  tiptoes. 

Miss  McCoy,  arrayed  in  a  sometime  pie* 
ture  hat  cocked  over  one  ear,  a  short  gymna- 
sium skirt,  scarlet  stockings  and  a  scarlet 
sash,  was  mounted  upon  a  table,  giving  an 
imitation  of  a  clog  dance  in  a  mining-camp, 
.while  her  audience  played  rag-time  on  combs 
and  clapped. 

"  Margarite  I  Get  down !  "  someone  sud- 
denly warned  in  frightened  tones  above  die 
uproar. 

*  You  need  n't  call  me  Margarite.  I  'ra 
Kid  McCoy  of  Cripple  Creek." 

Her  eye  caught  sight  of  Miss  Lord  tower- 
16  241 


Just    Patty 

Ing  above  the  heads  crowded  in  the  doorway 
and  she  quite  suddenly  climbed  down.  For 
once,  Miss  Lord  was  without  words.  She 
stared  for  a  space  of  three  minutes;  finally, 
she  managed  to  articulate: 

"  Sunday  evening  in  a  Church  school!  " 

The  audience  dispersed,  and  Miss  Lord 
and  Miss  McCoy  remained  alone.  Rosalie 
fled  to  the  farthermost  reaches  of  Paradise 
Alley  and  discussed  possible  punishments 
with  Patty  and  Conny  for  a  trembling  hour. 
"  Lights-out  "  had  rung  before  she  summoned 
courage  to  steal  back  to  the  darkened  South 
Corridor.  The  sound  of  smothered  sobbing 
came  from  Margarite's  bed.  Rosalie  sank 
down  on  her  knees  and  put  her  arm  around 
her  room-mate.  The  sobbing  ceased  while 
Margarite  rigidly  held  her  breath. 

"  Kid,"  she  comforted,  "  don't  mind 
Lordie  —  she  's  a  horrid,  snooping  old  thing ! 
.What  did  she  say?  " 

"  I  'm  not  to  leave  bounds  for  a  month, 
have  to  learn  five  psalms  by  heart  and  takfe 
f-fifty  demerits." 

"Fifty!  It's  a  perfect  shame!  You  '11 
242 


Reformation  of  Kid  McCoy 

never  work  them  off.  She  had  no  right  to 
make  a  fuss  when  you  'd  been  good  so  long." 
"  I  don't  care !  "  said  Kid,  fiercely,  as  she 
struggled  to  free  herself  from  Rosalie's  em- 
brace. "  She  '11  never  have  a  chance  again 
to  call  me  her  sweet  little  daughter." 


24S 


X 

Onions  and  Orchids 


X 

Onions   and    Orchids 


HE  perimeters  of  similar  poly- 
gons are  as  their  homologous 
sides." 

Patty  dreamily  assured  her- 
self of  this  important  truth  for  the  twentieth 
time,  as  she  sat  by  the  open  schoolroom 
window,  her  eyes  on  the  billowing  whiteness 
of  the  cherry  tree  which  had  burst  into  blos- 
som overnight. 

It  was  particularly  necessary  that  she 
should  finish  her  lessons  with  dispatch,  be- 
cause it  was  Saturday,  and  she  was  going  to 
the  city  with  Mademoiselle's  party  to  spend 
an  hour  in  the  dentist's  chair.  But  the 
weather  was  not  conducive  to  concentrated 
effort.  After  an  hour  of  half-hearted  study, 
she  closed  her  geometry,  and  started  upstairs 
247 


Just    Patty 

to  dress,  leaving  the  stay-at-homes  to  another 
hour  of  work. 

She  started  upstairs;  but  she  did  not  get 
very  far  on  the  way.  As  she  passed  the  open 
door  that  led  to  the  back  porch,  she  stepped 
outside  to  examine  the  cherry  tree  at  close 
range;  then  she  strolled  the  length  of  the 
pergola  to  see  how  the  wistaria  was  coming 
on ;  from  there,  it  was  just  a  step  to  the  lane, 
with  its  double  row  of  pink-tipped  apple  trees. 
Before  she  knew  it,  Patty  found  herself  sit- 
ting on  the  stone  wall  at  the  end  of  the  lower 
pasture.  Behind  her  lay  the  confines  of  St. 
Ursula's.  Before  her  the  World. 

She  sat  on  the  top  of  the  wall,  and  dangled 
her  feet  out  of  bounds.  The  very  most  scan- 
dalous crime  one  could  commit  at  St.  Ursula's 
was  to  go  out  of  bounds  without  permission. 
Patty  sat  and  gazed  at  the  forbidden  land. 
She  knew  that  she  had  no  time  to  waste  if  she 
were  to  catch  the  hearse  and  the  train  and  the 
dentist's  chair.  But  still  she  sat  and 
dreamed.  Finally,  far  across  the  fields  on 
the  highroad,  she  spied  the  hearse  bowling 
merrily  to  the  station.  Then  it  occurred  to 
248 


Onions  and   Orchids 

her  that  she  had  forgotten  to  report  to  Ma- 
demoiselle that  she  was  going,  and  that  Ma- 
demoiselle, accordingly,  would  not  be  missing 
her.  At  the  school,  of  course,  they  would 
think  that  she  had  gone,  and  likewise  would 
not  be  missing  her.  Without  any  premedi- 
tated iniquity,  she  was  free ! 

She  sat  a  few  moments  longer  to  let  the 
feeling  penetrate.  Then  she  slid  over  the 
wall  and  started  —  a  joyous  young  mutineer, 
seeking  adventure.  Following  the  cheery 
course  of  the  brook,  she  dipped  into  a  tangled 
-avine  and  a  stretch  of  woodland,  raced  down 
a  hillside  and  across  a  marshy  meadow,  leap- 
ing gaily  from  hummock  to  hummock  —  oc- 
casionally missing  and  going  in.  She  laughed 
aloud  at  these  misadventures,  and  waved  her 
arms  and  romped  with  the  wind.  In  addition 
to  the  delicious  sense  of  feeling  free,  was 
added  the  delicious  sense  of  feeling  bad.  The 
combination  was  intoxicating. 

And  so,  always  following  the  stream,  she 

came  at  last  to  another  wood  —  not  a  wild 

wood  like  the  first,  but  a  tame,  domesticated 

wood.     The  dead  limbs  were  cut  away,  and 

249 


Just   Patty 

the  ground  was  neatly  brushed  up  under  the 
trees.  The  brook  flowed  sedately  between 
fern-bordered  banks,  under  rustic  bridges,  and 
widened  occasionally  into  pools  carpeted  with 
lily  pads.  Mossy  paths  set  with  stepping- 
stones  led  off  into  mysterious  depths  that  the 
eye  could  not  penetrate:  the  leaves  were  just 
out  enough  to  half  hide  and  to  tantalize.  The 
grass  was  starred  with  crocuses.  It  looked 
like  an  enchanted  wood  in  a  fairy  tale. 

This  second  wood,  however,  was  bordered 
by  a  solid  stone  wall,  and  on  top  of  the  wall, 
by  four  strands  of  barbed  wire.  Signs  ap- 
peared at  intervals  —  three  were  visible  from 
where  Patty  stood  —  stating  that  these  were 
private  grounds,  and  that  trespassers  would  be 
prosecuted  to  the  full  extent  of  the  law. 

Patty  knew  well  to  whom  it  belonged ;  she 
had  often  passed  the  front  gates  which  faced 
on  the  other  road.  The  estate  was  celebrated 
in  the  neighborhood,  in  the  United  States,  for 
the  matter  of  that.  It  comprised  500  acres 
and  belonged  to  a  famous  —  or  infamous  —  • 
multi-millionaire.  His  name  was  Silas 
iWeatherby,  and  he  was  the  originator  of  ? 
250 


Onions   and   Orchids 

great  many  Wicked  Corporations.  He  had 
beautiful  conservatories  full  of  tropical 
plants,  a  sunken  Italian  garden,  an  art  collec- 
L'ion  and  picture  gallery.  He  was  a  crusty 
old  codger  always  engaged  in  half-a-dozen 
lawsuits.  He  hated  the  newspapers,  and  the 
newspapers  hated  him.  He  was  in  particu- 
larly bad  repute  at  St.  Ursula's,  because,  in 
response  to  a  politely  couched  note  from  the 
principal,  asking  that  the  art  class  might  view 
his  Botticelli  and  the  botany  class  his  orchids, 
he  had  ungraciously  replied  that  he  could  n't 
have  a  lot  of  school  girls  running  over  his 
place  —  if  he  let  them  come  one  year,  he 
would  have  to  let  them  come  another,  and  he 
did  n't  wish  to  establish  a  precedent. 

Patty  looked  at  the  "  No  Trespassing " 
signs  and  the  barbed  wire,  and  she  looked  at 
the  wood  beyond.  They  could  n't  do  any- 
thing if  they  did  catch  her,  she  reasoned,  ex- 
cept turn  her  out.  People  were  n't  jailed 
nowadays  for  taking  a  peaceable  walk  in 
other  people's  woods.  Besides,  the  million- 
aire person  was  attending  a  directors'  meeting 
in  Chicago.  This  bit  of  neighborhood  gos- 
251 


Just    Patty 


sip  she  had  gleaned  that  morning  in  her 
weekly  perusal  of  the  daily  press  —  Saturday 
night  at  dinner  they  were  supposed  to  talk  on 
current  topics,  so  Saturday  morning  they 
glanced  at  the  headlines  and  an  editorial. 
Since  the  family  were  not  at  home,  why  not 
drop  in  and  inspect  the  Italian  garden  ?  The 
servants  were  doubtless  more  polite  than  the 
master. 

She  selected  a  portion  of  the  wall  where 
the  wire  seemed  slack,  and  wriggled  under, 
stomach-wise,  tearing  only  a  small  hole  in  the 
shoulder  of  her  blouse.  She  played  with  the 
enchanted  wood  half  an  hour  or  so;  then  fol- 
lowing a  path,  she  quite  suddenly  left  the 
wood  behind,  and  popped  out  into  a  garden 
—  not  a  flower  garden,  but  a  kitchen  garden 
on  an  heroic  scale.  Neat  plots  of  sprouting 
vegetables  were  bordered  by  currant  bushes, 
and  the  whole  was  surrounded  by  a  high  brick 
;wall,  against  which  pear  trees  were  trained 
in  the  English  fashion. 

A  gardener  was  engaged,  with  his  back  to- 
ward Patty,  in  setting  out  baby  onions.  She 
studied  him  dubiously,  divided  between  a 
252 


Onions  and  Orchids 

prompting  to  run,  and  a  social  instinct  of 
friendliness.  He  was  an  extremely  pictur- 
esque gardener,  dressed  in  knickerbockers  and 
leather  gaiters,  with  a  touch  of  red  in  his 
waistcoat,  and  a  cardigan  jacket  and  a  cap 
on  the  side  of  his  head.  He  did  not  look 
very  affable;  but  he  did  look  rheumatic  — 
even  if  he  chased  her,  she  was  sure  that  she 
could  run  faster  than  he.  So  she  settled  her- 
self on  his  wheelbarrow  and  continued  to 
watch  him,  while  she  pondered  an  opening 
remark. 

He  glanced  up  suddenly  and  caught  sight 
of  her.  The  surprise  nearly  tipped  him 
over. 

"  Good  morning!  "  said  Patty  pleasantly. 

"  Ugh!  "  grunted  the  man.  "  What  are 
you  doing  there?  " 

;<  Watching  you  plant  onions." 

This  struck  Patty  as  a  self-evident  truth, 
but  she  was  perfectly  willing  to  state  it. 

He  grunted  again  as  he  straightened  his 
back  and  took  a  step  toward  her. 

:t  Where 'd  you  come  from?"  he  de- 
manded gruffly. 

253 


Just    Patty 

"  Over  there."  Patty  waved  her  hand 
largely  to  westward. 

"  Humph !  "  he  remarked.  "  You  belong 
to  that  school  —  Saint  Something  or  Other  ?  " 

She  acknowledged  it.  Saint  Ursula's 
monogram  was  emblazoned  large  upon  her 
sleeve. 

"  Do  they  know  you  're  out?  " 

"  No,"  she  returned  candidly,  "  I  don't 
believe  they  do.  I  am  quite  sure  of  it  in 
fact.  They  think  I  Ve  gone  to  the  dentist's 
with  Mam'selle,  and  she  thinks  I  'm  at  school. 
So  it  leaves  me  entirely  at  leisure.  I  thought 
I  'd  come  over  and  see  what  Mr.  Weatherby's 
Italian  garden  looks  like.  I  'm  interested  in 
Italian  gardens." 

"  Well  I  '11  be  — !  "  He  commenced,  and 
came  a  trifle  nearer  and  stared  again.  "  Did 
you  happen  to  see  any  '  No  Trespassing  * 
signs  as  you  came  through?  " 

"  Mercy,  yes !  The  whole  place  is  pep- 
pered with  'em." 

'  They  don't  seem  to  have  impressed  you 
much." 

"  Oh,  I  never  pay  any  attention  to  '  No 
254 


Onions  and  Orchids 

Trespassing'  signs,"  said  Patty  easily. 
"  You  'd  never  get  anywhere  in  this  world  if 
you  let  them  bother  you." 

The  man  unexpectedly  chuckled. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  would!  "  he  agreed. 
"  I  Ve  never  let  them  bother  me,"  he  added 
meditatively. 

"Can't  I  help  you  plant  your  onions?" 
Patty  asked  politely.  It  struck  her  that  this 
might  be  the  quickest  route  to  the  Italian 
garden. 

"  Why,  yes,  thank  you !  " 

He  accepted  her  offer  with  unexpected  cor- 
diality, and  gravely  explained  the  mode  of 
work.  The  onions  were  very  tiny,  and  they 
must  be  set  right-side  up  with  great  care ;  be- 
cause it  is  very  difficult  for  an  embryonic 
onion  to  turn  itself  over  after  it  has  once  got 
started  in  the  wrong  direction. 

Patty  grasped  the  business  very  readily/ 
and  followed  along  in  the  next  row  three  feet 
behind  him.  It  turned  out  sociable  work; 
by  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes  they  were  quite 
old  friends.  The  talk  ranged  far  —  over 
philosophy  and  life  and  morals.  He  had  a 


Just   Patty 

very  decided  opinion  on  every  subject  —  she 
put  him  down  as  Scotch  —  he  seemed  a  well- 
informed  old  fellow  though,  and  he  read  the 
papers.  Patty  had  also  read  the  paper  that 
morning.  She  discoursed  at  some  length 
upon  whether  or  not  corporations  should  be 
subject  to  state  control.  She  stoutly  agreed 
with  her  editor  that  they  should.  He  main- 
tained that  they  were  like  any  other  private 
property,  and  that  it  was  nobody's  damned 
business  how  they  managed  themselves. 

"  A  penny,  please,"  said  Patty,  holding 
out  her  hand. 

"  A  penny  ?  —  what  for  ?  " 

'  That  '  damn/  Every  time  you  use  slang 
or  bad  grammar  you  have  to  drop  a  penny  in 
the  charity  box.  '  Damn '  is  much  worse 
than  slang ;  it 's  swearing.  I  ought  to  charge 
you  five  cents,  but  since  this  is  the  first  of- 
fense, I  '11  let  you  off  with  one." 

He  handed  over  his  penny,  and  Patty 
gravely  pocketed  it. 

'*  What  sort  of  things  do  you  learn  in  that 
school?"  he  inquired  with  a  show  of  curi- 
osity. 

256 


Onions  and  Orchids 

She  obligingly  furnished  a  sample: 

"The  perimeters  of  similar  polygons  are 
as  their  homologous  sides." 

"  You  will  find  that  useful,"  he  commented 
with  the  suggestion  of  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"Very,"  she  agreed — "on  examination 
day." 

After  half  an  hour,  onion-planting  grew 
to  be  wearying  work;  but  Patty  was  bound  to 
be  game,  and  stick  to  her  job  as  long  as  he 
did.  Finally,  however,  the  last  onion  was 
in,  and  the  gardener  rose  and  viewed  the  neat 
rows  with  some  satisfaction. 

"That  will  do  for  to-day,"  he  declared; 
"  we  Ve  earned  a  rest." 

They  sat  down,  Patty  on  the  wheelbarrow, 
the  man  on  an  upturned  tub. 

"  How  do  you  like  working  for  Mr. 
Weatherby?"  she  inquired.  "Is  he  as  bad 
as  the  papers  make  out?  " 

The  gardener  chuckled  slightly  as  he 
lighted  his  pipe. 

"  Well,"  he  said  judiciously,  "  he  's  always 
been  very  decent  to  me,  but  I  don't  know  as 
his  enemies  have  any  cause  to  love  him." 

17 


Just   Patty 

"  I  think  he  's  horrid!  "  said  Patty. 

"  Why?  "  asked  the  man  with  a  slight  air 
of  challenge.  He  was  quite  willing  to  run 
his  master  down  himself,  but  he  would  not 
permit  an  outsider  to  do  it. 

"  He  's  so  terribly  stingy  with  his  old  con- 
servatories. The  Dowager  —  I  mean  Mrs~ 
Trent,  the  principal,  you  know  —  wrote  and 
asked  him  to  let  the  botany  class  see  his: 
orchids,  and  he  was  just  as  rude  as  he  could 
be!" 

"  I  'm  sure  he  did  n't  mean  it,"  the  man 
apologized. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  did!"  maintained  Patty. 
"  He  said  he  could  n't  have  a  lot  of  school 
girls  running  through  and  breaking  down  his 
vines  —  as  if  we  would  do  such  a  thing !  We 
have  perfectly  beautiful  manners.  We  learn 
'em  every  Thursday  night." 

"  Maybe  he  was  a  little  rude,"  he  agreed. 
"  But  you  see,  he  has  n't  had  your  advantages, 
Miss.  He  didn't  learn  his  manners  in  a 
young  ladies'  boarding-school." 

"  He  did  n't  learn  them  anywhere,"  Patty 
shrugged. 

258 


Onions  and  Orchids 

The  gardener  took  a  long  pull  at  his  pipe 
and  studied  the  horizon  with  narrowed  eyes. 

"It  is  n't  quite  fair  to  judge  him  the  way 
you  would  other  people,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  He  's  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  in  his  life; 
and  nov/  he  's  old,  and  I  dare  say  pretty  lonely 
sometimes.  All  the  world  's  against  him  — 
when  people  are  decent,  he  knows  it 's  because 
they  're  after  something.  Your  teacher,  now, 
is  polite  when  she  wants  to  see  his  conserva- 
tories, but  I  '11  bet  she  believes  he  's  an  old 
thief!" 

"  Is  n't  he?  "  asked  Patty. 

The  man  grinned  slightly. 

"  He  has  his  moments  of  honesty  like  the 
rest  of  us." 

"  Perhaps,"  Patty  grudgingly  conceded, 
"  he  may  not  be  so  bad  when  you  know  him. 
It 's  often  the  way.  Now,  ther^  was 
Lordy,  our  Latin  teacher.  I  used  to  despise 
her ;  and  then  —  in  the  hour  of  trial  —  jhe 
came  up  to  the  scratch,  and  was  per»fect-ly 
bully!" 

He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  A  penny." 

259 


Just    Patty 

Patty  handed  him  back  his  own. 

"  She  kept  me  from  getting  expelled  —  she 
did,  really.  I  Ve  never  been  able  to  hate 
her  since.  And  you  know,  I  miss  it  dread- 
fully. It 's  sort  of  fun  having  an  enemy." 

"  I  Ve  had  a  good  many,"  he  nodded, 
"  and  I  Ve  always  managed  to  enjoy 
them." 

"  And  probably  they  're  really  quite  nice?  " 
she  suggested. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  agreed,  "  the  worst  crim- 
inals are  often  very  pleasant  people  when  you 
see  their  right  side." 

"Yes,  that's  true,"  said  Patty.  "It's 
mainly  chance  that  makes  people  bad  —  I 
know  it  is  in  my  own  case.  This  morning 
for  instance,  I  got  up  with  every  intention  of 
learning  my  geometry  and  going  to  the 
dentist's  —  and  yet  —  here  I  am !  And  so/1 
she  pointed  a  moral,  "  you  always  ought  to 
be  kind  to  criminals  and  remember  that  under 
different  circumstances  you  might  have  been 
in  jail  yourself." 

"  That  thought,"  he  acknowledged,  "  has 
often  occurred  to  me.  I  —  we  —  that  is," 
260 


Onions  and   Orchids 

he  resumed  after  a  "ncment  of  amused  medi- 
tation, "  Mr.  ~Veatherby  believes  in  giving  a 
man  a  chance.  If  you  have  any  convict 
friends,  who  are  looking  for  a  job,  this  is  the 
place  to  send  them.  We  used  to  have  a  cat- 
tle thief  taking  care  of  -he  cows,  and  a  mur- 
derer in  charge  of  the  orchids." 

"  What  fun!  "  cried  Patty.  "  Have  you 
got  him  now?  I  should  love  to  see  a  mur- 
derer." 

"  He  left  some  time  ago.  The  place  was 
too  slow  for  him." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  working  for 
Mr.  Weatherby?"  she  asked. 

"  A  good  .nany  years  —  and  I  Ve  worked 
hard!  "  he  added,  -.1th  a  clight  air  of  chal- 
lenge. 

"  I  hope  he  appreciates  you?  * 

"  Yes,  I  /.link  on  the  whole  lhat  he  does.  ' 

He  knocked  the  ashes  from  liis  pipe  and 
rose. 

"  And  now,"  he  suggested,  "  should  you 
like  me  to  :how  you  the  Italian  garden?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Patty,  "  if  you  think  Mr, 
iWeatherby  would  n't  mind." 
261 


Just    Patty 

"  I  'm  head  gardener.  I  do  what  I 
please." 

"  If  you  're  head  gardener,  what  makes 
you  plant  onions?  " 

"  It 's  tiresome  work  —  good  for  my  char- 


acter." 


"Oh!"  Patty  laughed. 

"  And  then  you  see,  when  I  have  a  tend- 
ency to  overwork  the  men  .under  me,  I  stop 
and  think  how  my  own  back  ached." 

1  You  're  much  too  nice  a  man  to  work  for 
him !  "  she  pronounced  approvingly. 

"  Thank  ye,  Miss,"  he  touched  his  hat  with 
a  grin. 

The  Italian  garden  was  a  fascinating  spot, 
with  marble  steps  and  fountains  and  clipped 
yew  trees. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  Conny  could  see  it!  "  Patty 
cried. 

"And  who  is  she?" 

"  Conny  's  my  room-mate.  She  's  awfully 
interested  in  gardens  this  year,  because  she  's 
going  to  get  the  botany  prize  for  analyzing 
the  most  plants  —  at  least,  I  think  she  's 
going  to  get  it.  It 's  between  her  and  Keren 
262 


Onions  and  Orchids 

Hersey;  all  the  rest  of  the  class  have  dropped 
out.  Mae  Van  Arsdale  is  working  against 
Conny,  to  spite  me,  because  I  would  n't  stay 
in  an  old  secret  society  that  she  started.  She 
gets  orchids  from  the  city  and  gives  them  to 
Keren." 

"  H'm,"  he  frowned  over  this  tangle  of  in- 
trigue. "Is  it  entirely  fair  for  the  rest  to 
help?" 

"  Oh,  yes!  "  said  Patty.  "  They  have  to 
do  the  analyzing,  but  their  friends  can  collect 
and  paste.  Every  time  anybody  goes  for  a 
walk,  she  comes  back  with  her  blouse  stuffed 
full  of  specimens  for  either  Conny  or  Keren. 
The  nice  girls  are  for  Conny.  Keren  's  an 
awful  dig.  She  wears  eye-glasses  and  thinks 
she  knows  everything." 

"  I  'm  for  Miss  Conny  myself,"  he  de- 
clared. "  Is  there  any  way  in  which  I  could 
help?" 

Patty  glanced  about  tentatively. 

*  You  have  quite  a  number  of  plants,"  she 
suggested,   "  that  Conny  has  n't  got  in  her 
book." 

*  You  shall  take  back  as  many  as  you  can 

263 


Just   Patty 

carry,"  he  promised.       '  We  '11  pay  a  visit  to 
the  orchid  house." 

They  left  the  garden  behind,  and  turned 
toward  the  glass  roofs  of  the  conservatories. 
Patty  was  so  entertained,  that  she  had  en- 
tirely forgotten  the  passage  of  time,  until  she 
came  face  to  face  with  a  clock  in  the  gable 
of  the  carriage  house;  then  she  suddenly  re- 
alized that  St.  Ursula's  luncheon  had  been 
served  three  quarters  of  an  hour  before  — 
and  that  she  was  in  a  starving  condition. 

"  Oh,  goodness  gracious !  I  forgot  all 
about  luncheon !  " 

"  Is  it  a  very  grave  crime  to  forget  about 
luncheon?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Patty,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  sort  of 
miss  it." 

"  I  might  furnish  you  with  enough  to  sus- 
tain life  for  a  short  time,"  he  suggested. 

"  Oh,  could  you?  "  she  asked  relievedly. 

She  was  accustomed  to  having  a  table/ 
spread  three  times  a  day,  and  she  cared  little 
who  furnished  it. 

"  Just  some  milk,"  she  said  modestly,  "  and 
some  bread  and  butter  and  —  er  —  cookies. 
264 


Onions  and  Orchids 

Then,  you  see,  I  won't  have  to  go  back  till 
four  o'clock  when  they  come  from  the  sta- 
tion, and  maybe  I  can  slip  in  without  being 
missed." 

"  You  just  wait  in  the  pavilion,  and  I  '11 
see  what  the  gardener's  cottage  can  sup- 
ply." 

He  was  back  in  fifteen  minutes,  chuckling 
as  he  lugged  a  big  hamper. 

"  We  '11  have  a  picnic,"  he  proposed. 

"  Oh,  let 's !  "  said  Patty  joyously.  She 
did  not  mind  eating  with  him  in  the  least,  for 
he  had  washed  his  hands,  and  appeared  quite 
clean. 

She  helped  him  unpack  the  hamper  and  set 
the  table  in.  the  little  pavilion  beside  the  foun- 
tain. He  had  lettuce  sandwiches,  a  pat  of 
cottage  cheese,  a  jug  of  milk,  orange  marma- 
lade, sugar  cookies,  and  gingerbread  hot  from 
the  oven. 

"  What  a  perfectly  bully  spread!"  she 
cried. 

He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Another  penny!  " 

Patty  peered  into  an  empty  pocket. 
265 


Just   Patty 

"  You  '11  have  to  charge  it.  I  Ve  used  up 
all  my  ready  money." 

The  spring  sun  was  warm,  the  fountain 
was  splashing,  the  wind  was  sprinkling  the 
pavilion  floor  with  white  magnolia  petals. 
Patty  helped  herself  to  marmalade  with  a 
happy  sigh  of  contentment. 

"  The  most  fun  in  the  world  is  to  run  away 
from  the  things  you  ought  to  do/'  she  pro- 
nounced. 

He  acknowledged  this  immoral  truth  with 
a  laugh. 

"I  suppose  you  ought  to  be  working?" 
she  asked. 

:>l  There  are  one  or  two  little  matters  that 
might  be  the  better  for  my  attention." 

"  And  are  n't  you  glad  you  're  not  doing 
them?" 

"Bully  glad!" 

She  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Give  it  back." 

The  cent  returned  to  her  pocket,  and  the 

meal    progressed    gaily.     Patty    was    in    an 

elated   frame  of  mind,   and  Patty's  elation 

was  catching.     Escaping  from  bounds,  tres- 

266 


Onions  and   Orchids 

passing  on  a  private  estate,  planting  onions, 
and  picnicking  in  the  Italian  garden  with  the 
head  gardener  —  she  had  never  had  such  a 
dizzying  whirl  of  adventures.  The  head  gar- 
dener also  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sensation  of 
offering  sanctuary  to  a  runaway  school 
girl.  Their  appreciation  of  the  lark  was 
mutual. 

As  Patty,  with  painstaking  honesty,  was 
dividing  the  last  of  the  gingerbread  into  two 
exact  halves,  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of 
a  footstep  on  the  gravel  path  behind;  and 
there  walked  into  their  party  a  groom  —  a 
crimson-faced,  gaping  young  man  who  stood 
mechanically  bobbing  his  head.  Patty  stared 
back  a  touch  apprehensively.  She  hoped 
that  she  had  n't  got  her  friend  into  trouble. 
It  was  very  possibly  against  the  rules  for  gar- 
deners to  entertain  runaway  school  girls  in  the 
Italian  garden.  The  groom  continued  to 
stare  and  to  duck  his  head,  and  her  companion 
rose  and  faced  him. 

4  Well?  "  he  inquired  with  a  note  of  sharp- 
ness.    "  What  do  you  want?  " 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  this  telegram  come, 

267 


Just   Patty 

and  Richard  says  it  might  be  important,  sir, 
and  he  says  for  me  to  find  you,  sir." 

He  received  the  telegram,  ran  his  eyes  over 
it,  scribbled  an  answer  on  the  back  with  a 
gold  pencil  which  he  extracted  from  his 
pocket,  and  dismissed  the  man  with  a  curt 
nod.  The  envelope  had  fluttered  to  the  table 
and  lay  there  face  up.  Patty  inadvertently 
glanced  at  the  address,  and  as  the  truth 
flashed  across  her,  she  hid  her  head  against 
the  back  of  the  stone  seat  in  a  gale  of  laugh- 
ter. Her  companion  looked  momentarily 
sheepish,  then  he  too  laughed. 

'  You  have  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  telling 
me  exactly  how  rude  you  think  I  am.  Not 
even  the  reporters  always  allow  themselves 
that  pleasure." 

"  Oh,  but  that  was  before  I  knew  you !  I 
think  now  that  you  have  perfectly  beautiful 


manners." 


He  bowed  his  thanks. 

"  I  shall  endeavor  to  have  better  in  the  fu- 
ture.    It  will  be  my  pleasure  to  put  my  green 
houses  at  the  disposal  of  the  young  ladies  of 
St.  Ursula's  some  afternoon  soon." 
268 


Onions  and   Orchids 

"Really?"  she  smiled.  "That's  aw- 
fully  nice  of  you !  " 

They  repacked  the  hamper  and  divided  the 
crumbs  among  the  goldfish  in  the  fountain. 

"  And  now,"  he  inquired,  "  which  will  you 
visit  first  —  the  picture  gallery  or  the  or- 
chids?" 

Patty  emerged  from  the  orchid  house  at 
four  o'clock,  her  arms  filled  with  an  unprece- 
dented collection  for  Conny's  book.  The  big 
yellow  four-in-hand  coach  was  standing  out- 
side the  stable  being  washed.  She  examined 
it  interestedly. 

"  Should  you  like  to  have  me  drive  you 
home  on  that?  " 

"  Oh,  I  'd  love  it !  "  Patty  dimpled.  "  But 
I  'm  afraid  it  would  n't  be  wise,"  she  added 
on  second  thought.  "  No,  I  am  sure  it 
would  n't  be  wise,"  she  firmly  turned  her 
back.  Her  eyes  fell  on  the  road,  and  an  ap- 
prehensive light  sprang  to  her  face. 

"There's  the  hearse!" 

"The  hearse?" 

"  Yes,  the  school  wagonette.  I  think  I  'd 
better  be  going." 

269 


Just    Patty 


He  accompanied  her  back,  through  the 
vegetable  garden  and  the  enchanted  wood, 
and  held  her  flowers  while  she  crawled  under 
the  fence,  tearing  a  hole  in  the  other  shoul- 
der. 

They  shook  hands  through  the  barbed 
wire. 

"  I  Ve  enjoyed  both  the  onions  and  the 
orchids,"  said  Patty  politely,  "  and  particu- 
larly the  gingerbread.  And  if  I  ever  have 
any  convict  friends  in  need  of  employment, 
I  may  send  them  to  you?  " 

"  Do  so,"  he  urged.  "  I  will  find  them  a 
job." 

She  started  off,  then  turned  to  wave  good- 
by. 

"  I  Ve  had  a  perfectly  bully  time!  " 

"A  penny!  "he  called. 

Patty  laughed  and  ran. 


270 


XI 

The  Lemon   Pie  and  the 
Monkey-Wrench 


XI 

The    Lemon    Pie   and 
the   Monkey- Wrench 

VALINA  SMITH  was  a  mor- 
bid young  person  who  loved  to 
dabble  in  the  supernatural. 
Her  taste  in  literature  was  for 
Edgar  A.  Poe.  In  religion  she  inclined  to- 
ward spiritualism.  Her  favorite  amuse- 
ment was  to  gather  a  few  shuddering  friends 
about  her,  turn  out  the  gas,  and  tell  ghost 
stories.  She  had  an  extensive  repertoire  of 
ghoulish  incidents,  that  were  not  fiction  but 
the  actual  experience  of  people  she  knew. 
She  had  even  had  one  or  two  spiritual  adven- 
tures herself;  and  she  would  set  forth  the  de- 
tails with  wide  eyes  and  lowered  voice,  while 
her  auditors  held  one  another's  hands  and 

273 


Just    Patty 


shivered.  The  circle  in  which  Evalina  moved 
had  not  much  sense  of  humor. 

One  Saturday  evening  St.  Ursula's  School 
was  in  an  unusually  social  mood.  Evalina 
was  holding  a  ghost  party  in  her  room  in  the 
East  Wing;  Nancy  Lee  had  invited  her  ten 
dearest  friends  to  a  birthday  spread  in  Cen- 
ter; the  European  History  class  was  cele- 
brating the  completion  of  the  Thirty-Years 
War  by  a  molasses-candy  pull  in  the  kitchen ; 
and  Kid  McCoy  was  conducting  a  potato 
race  down  the  length  of  the  South  Corridor 
—  the  entrance  fee  a  postage  stamp,  the  prize 
sealed  up  in  a  large  bandbox  and  warranted 
to  be  worth  a  quarter. 

Patty,  who  was  popular,  had  been  invited 
to  all  four  of  the  functions.  She  had  de- 
clined Nancy's  spread,  because  Mae  Van 
Arsdale,  her  particular  enemy,  was  invited; 
but  had  accepted  the  other  invitations,  and 
was  busily  spending  the  evening  as  an  itiner- 
ant guest. 

She  carried  her  potato,  insecurely  bal- 
anced on  a  teaspoon,  over  one  table  and  under 
another,  through  a  hoop  suspended  from  the 
274 


The   Lemon   Pie 

ceiling,  and  deposited  it  in  the  wastebasket 
at  the  end  of  the  corridor,  in  exactly  two 
minutes  and  forty-seven  seconds.  (Kid  Mc- 
Coy had  a  stop-watch.)  This  was  far  ahead 
of  anyone  else's  record,  and  Patty  lingered 
hopefully  a  few  minutes  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  bandbox ;  but  a  fresh  inrush  of  entries 
postponed  the  bestowal  of  the  prize,  so  she 
left  the  judges  to  settle  the  question  at  their 
leisure,  and  drifted  on  to  Evalina's  room. 

She  found  it  dark,  except  for  the  fitful 
blue  flare  of  alcohol  and  salt  burning  in  a 
fudge  pan.  The  guests  were  squatting  about 
on  sofa  cushions,  looking  decidedly  spotty  in 
the  unbecoming  light.  Patty  silently  dropped 
down  on  a  vacant  cushion,  and  lent  polite 
attention  to  Evalina,  who  at  the  moment  held 
the  floor. 

1  Well,  you  know,  I  had  a  very  remark- 
able experience  myself  last  summer.  Hap- 
pening to  visit  a  spiritualist  camp,  I  attended 
a  materializing  seance. " 

"What's  that?"  asked  Rosalie  Patton. 

"  A  seance  in  which  spirits  appear  to  me- 
diums in  the  material  form  they  occupied  dur- 


Just    Patty 

ing  life,"  Evalina  condescendingly  explained. 
Rosalie  was  merely  an  invited  guest.  She 
did  not  belong  to  the  inner  cult. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Rosalie,  vaguely  enlightened. 

"  I  did  n't  really  expect  anything  to  hap- 
pen/' Evalina  continued,  "  and  I  was  just 
thinking  how  foolish  I  was  to  have  wasted 
that  dollar,  when  the  medium  shut  her  eyes 
and  commenced  to  tremble.  She  said  she 
saw  the  spirit  of  a  beautiful  young  girl  who 
had  passed  over  five  years  before.  The  girl 
was  dressed  in  white  and  her  clothes  were 
dripping  wet,  and  she  carried  in  her  hand  a 
monkey-wrench." 

"A  monkey-wrench!"  cried  Patty. 
"  What  on  earth  — " 

"  I  don't  know  any  more  than  you  do," 
said  Evalina  impatiently.  "  I  'm  just  tell- 
ing what  happened.  The  Medium  could  n't 
get  her  full  name,  but  she  said  her  first  name 
commenced  with  *  S.'  And  instantly,  it  came 
over  me  that  it  was  my  Cousin  Susan  who  fell 
into  a  well  and  was  drowned.  I  had  n't 
thought  of  her  for  years,  but  the  description 
answered  perfectly.  And  I  asked  the  me- 

276 


The  Lemon   Pie 

dium,  and  after  a  little,  she  said  yes,  it  was 
Susan,  and  that  she  had  come  to  send  me  a 
warning." 

Evalina  allowed  an  impressive  pause  to 
follow,  while  her  auditors  leaned  forward  in 
strained  attention. 

"  A  warning!  "  breathed  Florence  Hissop. 
'  Yes.     She  told  me  never  to  eat  lemon 
pie." 

Patty  choked  with  sudden  laughter.  Eva- 
lina cast  her  a  look  and  went  on. 

"  The  medium  shivered  again  and  came  out 
of  the  trance,  and  she  could  n't  remember  a 
thing  she  had  said!  When  I  told  her  about 
the  monkey-wrench  and  the  lemon  pie,  she 
was  just  as  much  puzzled  as  I  was.  She  said 
that  the  messages  thaC  came  from  the  spirit 
world  were  often  inexplicable;  though  they 
might  seem  to  deal  with  trivial  things,  yet 
in  reality  they  contained  a  deep  and  hidden 
truth.  Probably  some  day  I  would  have  an 
enemy  who  would  try  to  poison  me  with 
lemon  pie,  and  I  must  never,  on  any  account, 
taste  it  again." 

"  And  have  n't  you  ?  "  Patty  asked. 
277 


Just   Patty 

"  Never,"  said  Evalina  sadly. 

Patty  composed  her  features  into  an  ex- 
pression of  scientific  inquiry. 

"  Do  you  think  the  medium  told  the 
truth?"  ' 

"  I  Ve  never  had  any  cause  to  doubt  it." 

"  Then  you  really  believe  in  ghosts?  " 

"  In  spirits? "  Evalina  amended  gently. 
"  Many  strange  things  happen  that  cannot 
be  explained  in  any  other  manner." 

"  What  would  you  do  if  her  spirit  should 
appear  to  you?  Would  you  be  scared?  " 

"  Certainly  not!  "  said  Evalina,  with  dig- 
nity. "  I  was  very  fond  of  Cousin  Susan. 
I  have  no  cause  to  fear  her  spirit." 

The  smell  of  boiling  molasses  penetrated 
from  below;  Patty  excused  herself  and  turned 
toward  the  kitchen.  The  spiritual  heights 
on  which  Evalina  dwelt,  she  found  a  trifle  too 
rare  for  ordinary  breathing. 

The  candy  was  on  the  point  of  being 
poured  into  pans. 

"Here,  Patty!"  Priscilla  ordered,  "  you 
have  n't  done  any  work.  Run  down  to  the 
278 


The   Lemon   Pie 

storeroom  and  get  some  butter  to  keep  our 
hands  from  sticking." 

Patty  obligingly  accompanied  the  cook  to 
the  cellar,  with  not  a  thought  in  the  world 
beyond  butter.  On  a  shelf  in  the  storeroom 
stood  to-morrow's  dessert  —  a  row  of  fifteen 
lemon  pies,  with  neatly  decorated  tops  of 
white  meringue.  As  Patty  looked  at  them, 
she  was  suddenly  assailed  by  a  wicked  temp- 
tation; she  struggled  with  it  for  a  moment 
of  sanity,  but  in  the  end  she  fell.  While 
Nora's  head  was  bent  over  the  butter  tub, 
Patty  opened  the  window  and  deftly  plumped 
a  pie  through  the  iron  grating  onto  the  ledge 
without.  By  the  time  Nora  raised  her  head, 
the  window  was  shut  again,  and  Patty  was 
innocently  translating  the  label  on  a  bottle 
of  olive  oil. 

As  they  pulled  their  candy  in  a  secluded 
corner  of  the  kitchen,  Patty  hilariously  con- 
fided her  plan  to  Conny  and  Priscilla.  Conny 
was  always  game  for  whatever  mischief  was 
afoot,  but  Priscilla  sometimes  needed  urging. 
She  was  —  most  inconveniently  —  beginning 
279 


Just    Patty 

to  develop  a  moral  nature,  and  the  other  two, 
who  as  yet  were  comfortably  un-moral,  occa- 
sionally found  her  difficult  to  coerce. 

Priscilla  finally  lent  a  grudging  consent, 
while  Conny  enthusiastically  volunteered  to 
acquire  a  monkey-wrench.  Being  captain  of 
sports,  she  could  manage  the  matter  better 
than  Patty.  On  a  flying  visit  to  the  stables, 
ostensibly  to  consult  with  Martin  as  to  a  re- 
marking of  the  tennis  courts,  she  singled  out 
from  his  tool  bench  the  monkey-wrench  of  her 
choice,  casually  covered  it  with  her  sweater, 
and  safely  bore  it  away.  She  and  Patty  con- 
veyed their  booty  by  devious  secret  ways  to 
Paradise  Alley.  A  great  many  alarms  were 
given  on  the  passage,  a  great  deal  of  muffled 
giggling  ensued,  but  finally  the  monkey- 
wrench  and  the  pie  —  slightly  damaged  as 
to  its  meringue  top,  but  still  distinctly  recog- 
nizable as  lemon  —  were  safely  cached  under 
Patty's  bed  to  await  their  part  in  the  night's 
adventure. 

"  Lights-out  "  as  usual,  rang  at  nine-thirty, 
but  it  rang  to  deaf  ears.  A  spirit  of  restless 
festivity  was  abroad.  The  little  girls  in  the 
280 


The   Lemon   Pie 

"  Baby  Ward  "  larked  about  the  halls  in  a 
pillow  fight,  until  they  were  sternly  ordered 
to  bed  by  the  Dowager  herself.  It  was  close 
to  ten  o'clock  when  the  candy-pullers  washed 
their  sticky  hands  and  turned  upstairs. 

Patty  found  a  delegation  of  potato  racers 
waiting  with  the  news  that  she  had  won  the 
prize.  An  interested  crowd  gathered  to 
watch  her  open  the  box;  it  contained  a  tin 
funeral  wreath  that  had  been  displayed  that 
winter  in  the  window  of  the  village  under- 
taker —  Kid  had  bought  it  cheap,  owing  to 
fly  specks  that  would  not  rub  off.  The 
wreath  was  hoisted  on  the  end  of  a  shinny 
stick  and  marched  through  the  corridor  to 
the  tune  of  "  John  Brown's  Body,"  while 
Mademoiselle  ineffectually  wrung  her  hands 
and  begged  for  quiet. 

"  Mes  cheres  enf antes  —  it  is  ten  o'clock. 
Soyez  tranquilles.  Patty  —  Mon  Dieu  — 
How  you  are  bad!  Margarite  McCoy,  you 
do  not  listen  to  me?  Nous  verrons!  Go 
to  your  room,  dis  in-stant!  You  do  not  be- 
long in  my  hall.  Children!  I  implore. 
Go  to  bed  —  all  —  tout  de  suite!  " 
281 


Just   Patty 


The  procession  cheered  and  marched  on, 
until  Miss  Lord  descended  from  the  East  and 
commanded  silence.  Miss  Lord  when  in- 
censed was  effectual.  The  peace  of  con- 
quest settled  for  a  time  over  Paradise  Alley, 
and  she  returned  to  her  own  camp.  But  a 
fresh  hub-bub  broke  out,  when  it  was  discov- 
ered that  someone  had  sprinkled  granulated 
sugar,  in  liberal  quantities,  through  every  bed 
in  the  Alley.  Patty  and  Conny  would  have 
been  suspected,  had  their  own  sheets  not 
yielded  a  plentiful  harvest.  It  was  another 
half  hour  before  the  beds  were  remade,  and 
the  school  finally  composed  to  sleep. 

When  the  teacher  on  duty  had  made  her 
last  rounds,  and  everything  was  quiet,  Patty 
turned  back  the  covers  of  her  bed  and  cau- 
tiously stepped  to  the  floor.  She  was  still 
fully  clothed,  except  that  she  had  changed 
her  shoes  for  softer  soled  bedroom  slippers, 
better  fitted  for  nocturnal  adventures.  Pris- 
cilla  and  Conny  joined  her.  Fortunately  a 
full  moon  shone  high  in  the  sky,  and  they 
needed  no  artificial  light.  Aided  by  her  two 
assistants,  Patty  draped  the  sheets  of  her  bed 
282 


The  Lemon   Pie 

about  her  into  two  voluminous  wings,  and 
fastened  them  securely  with  safety  pins.  A 
pillow  slip  was  pulled  over  her  head  and  the 
corners  tied  into  ears.  They  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment with  scissors  suspended. 

"  Hurry  up  and  cut  a  nose,"  Patty  whis- 
pered. "  I  'm  smothering!  " 

"  It  seems  sort  of  too  bad  to  spoil  a  per- 
fectly good  pillow  slip,"  said  Priscilla,  with 
a  slight  access  of  conscience. 

"  I  '11  drop  some  money  in  the  mission- 
ary box,"  Patty  promised. 

The  nose  and  eyes  were  cut;  a  grinning 
mouth  and  devilishly  curved  eyebrows  were 
added  with  burnt  cork.  The  pillow  slip  was 
tied  firmly  about  her  neck  to  allow  no  chance 
of  slipping,  the  ears  waved  lopsidedly;  she 
was  the  most  amazing  specter  that  ever  left 
a  respectable  grave. 

These  preparations  had  occupied  some 
time.  It  was  already  ten  minutes  of  twelve. 

"  I  '11  wait  till  the  stroke  of  midnight," 
said  Patty.'  "Then  I'll  flutter  into  Eva- 
Una's  room,  and  wave  my  wings,  and  whis- 
per, '  Come ! '  The  monkey-wrench  and  the 
283 


Just    Patty 

pie,  I  '11  leave  on  the  foot  of  her  bed,  so 
she  '11  know  she  was  n't  dreaming." 

'What  if  she  screams?"  asked  Priscilla. 

"  She  won't  scream.  She  loves  ghosts  — 
especially  Cousin  Susan.  She  said  to-night 
she  'd  be  glad  to  meet  her." 

"  But  what  if  she  does  scream?  "  persisted 
Priscilla. 

"Oh,  that's  easy!  I'll  dash  back  and 
pop  into  bed.  Before  anybody  wakes,  I  '11 
be  sound  asleep. " 

They  made  a  reconnoitering  excursion  into 
the  empty  corridors  to  make  sure  that  all  was 
quiet.  Only  regular  breathing  issued  from 
open  doors.  Evalina  fortunately  lived  in  a 
single,  but  unfortunately,  it  was  at  the  ex- 
treme end  of  the  East  Wing  in  the  opposite 
corner  of  the  building  from  Patty's  own  dom- 
icile. Conny  and  Priscilla,  in  bedroom  slip- 
pers and  kimonos,  tiptoed  after  Patty  as  she 
took  her  flight  down  the  length  of  the  Alley. 
She  sailed  back  and  forth  and  waved  her 
wings  in  the  moonlight  that  streamed 
through  the  skylight  in  the  central  hall. 
The  two  spectators  clung  together  and  shiv- 
284 


The   Lemon   Pie 

ered  delightedly.  In  spite  of  having  been 
behind  the  scenes  and  assisted  at  the  make- 
up, they  received  a  distinct  sensation  —  what 
it  would  be  to  one  suddenly  wakened  from 
sleep,  to  a  believer  in  ghosts,  they  were  a 
bit  apprehensive  to  consider.  At  the  en- 
trance to  the  East  Wing,  they  handed  Patty 
her  pie  and  monkey-wrench,  and  retreated 
to  their  own  neighborhood.  In  case  of  an 
uproar,  they  did  not  wish  to  be  discovered 
too  far  from  home. 

Patty  flitted  on  down  the  corridor,  past 
yawning  doors,  into  Evalina's  room,  where 
she  took  up  a  central  position  in  a  patch  of 
moonlight.  A  few  sepulchral  "  Comes !  " 
brought  no  response.  Evalina  was  a  sound 
sleeper. 

Patty  shook  the  foot  of  the  bed.  The 
sleeper  stirred  slightly  but  slept  on.  This 
was  annoying.  The  ghost  had  no  mind  to 
make  noise  enough  to  disturb  the  neighbors. 
She  laid  the  pie  and  the  monkey-wrench  on 
the  counterpane,  and  shook  the  bed  again, 
with  the  insistence  of  an  earthquake.  As 
she  was  endeavoring  to  resume  her  proper- 

285 


Just   Patty 

ties,  Evalina  sat  up  and  clutched  the  bed 
clothes  about  her  neck  with  a  frenzied  jerk. 
Patty  just  had  time  to  save  the  pie  —  the 
monkey-wrench  went  to  the  floor  with  a 
•crash;  and  the  crash,  to  Patty's  startled 
senses,  was  echoed  and  intensified  from  far 
down  the  hall.  She  had  no  chance  to  wave 
her  wings  or  murmur,  "  Come."  Evalina 
did  not  wait  for  her  cue.  She  opened  her 
mouth  as  wide  as  it  would  open,  and  emitted 
shriek  after  shriek  of  such  ear-splitting  in- 
tensity, that  Patty,  for  a  moment,  was  too 
aghast  to  move.  Then,  still  hugging  the  pie 
in  her  arms,  she  turned  and  ran. 

To  her  consternation  the  cries  were  an- 
swered ahead.  The  whole  house  seemed  to 
be  awake  and  shrieking.  She  could  hear 
doors  banging  and  frightened  voices  demand- 
ing the  cause  of  the  tumult.  She  was  mak- 
ing a  quick  dash  for  her  own  room,  trusting 
to  the  confusion  and  darkness  to  make  good 
her  escape,  when  Miss  Lord,  gaily  attired 
in  a  flowered  bath-robe,  appeared  at  the  end 
of  the  corridor.  Patty  was  headed  straight 
286 


The   Lemon  Pie 

for  her  arms.  With  a  gasp  of  terror,  she 
turned  back  toward  the  shrieking  Evalina. 

She  realized  by  now  that  she  was  in  a 
trap. 

A  narrow  passage  led  from  the  East  Wing 
to  the  servants'  quarters.  She  dived  into 
this.  If  she  could  reach  the  back  stairs  it 
would  mean  safety.  She  pushed  the  door 
open  a  crack,  and  to  her  horror,  was  con- 
fronted by  a  worse  uproar.  The  servants' 
quarters  were  in  a  state  of  panic.  She  saw 
Maggie  dashing  past,  wrapped  in  a  pink 
striped  blanket,  while  above  the  general  con- 
fusion rose  Nora's  rich  brogue: 

"Help!  Murtherl  I  seen  a  bur-r-gu- 
lar!" 

She  shut  the  door  and  shrank  back  into 
the  passage.  Behind  her  Evalina  was  still 
hysterically  wailing: 

"  I  saw  a  ghost  I     I  saw  a  ghost !  " 

Before  her  the  cry  of  "  Burglars !  "  was 
growing  louder. 

Utterly  bewildered  at  this  double  demon- 
stration, Patty  flattened  herself  against  the 

287 


Just    Patty 

wall  in  the  friendly  darkness  of  the  passage, 
while  she  soulfully  thanked  Heaven  that  the 
proposed  electric  lights  had  not  yet  been  in- 
stalled. A  dozen  voices  were  calling  for 
matches,  but  no  one  seemed  to  find  any. 
She  pantingly  tugged  at  the  pillowcase  fas- 
tened about  her  neck;  but  Conny  had  tied  it 
firmly  with  a  white  hair  ribbon,  and  the  knot 
was  behind.  In  any  case,  even  if  she  could 
remove  her  masquerade,  she  was  lost  if  they 
found  her;  for  she  was  still  wearing  the 
white  dress  of  the  evening,  and  not  even 
Patty's  imagination  could  compass  an  excuse 
for  that  at  twelve  o'clock  at  night. 

The  search  was  growing  nearer;  she 
caught  the  glimmer  of  a  light  ahead.  At 
any  moment  they  might  open  the  door  of  the 
passage.  The  linen  closet  was  the  only 
refuge  at  hand  —  and  that  was  very  tem- 
porary. She  felt  for  the  door  handle  and 
slipped  inside.  If  she  could  find  a  pile  of 
sheets,  she  might  dive  to  the  bottom  and 
hope  to  escape  notice,  being  mostly  sheet  her- 
self. But  it  was  Saturday,  and  all  the  linen 
had  gone  down.  A  long,  slippery,  inclined 
288 


The   Lemon   Pie 

chute  connected  the  room  with  the  laundry 
in  the  basement  two  floors  below.  Steps 
were  already  audible  in  the  passage.  She 
heard  Miss  Lord's  voice  say: 

"  Bring  a  light !  We  '11  search  the  linen 
closet." 

Patty  did  not  hesitate.  In  imagination 
she  could  already  feel  the  pressure  of  Miss 
Lord's  grasp  upon  her  shoulder.  A  broken 
neck  was  preferable. 

Still  hugging  the  lemon  pie  —  in  all  her 
excitement  she  had  clasped  it  firmly  —  she 
climbed  into  the  chute,  stretched  her  feet  out 
straight  in  front,  and  pushed  off.  For  two 
breathless  seconds  she  dashed  through  space, 
then  her  feet  hit  the  trap  door  at  the  bottom, 
and  she  shot  into  the  laundry. 

One  instant  earlier,  the  door  from  the 
kitchen  stairs  had  cautiously  opened,  and  a 
man  had  darted  into  the  laundry.  He  had 
just  had  time  to  cast  a  glance  of  boundless 
relief  about  the  empty,  moonlit  room,  when 
Patty  and  the  pie  catapulted  against  him. 
They  went  down  together  in  a  whirl  of  wav- 
ing wings.  Patty  being  on  top  picked  her- 
19  289 


Just    Patty 


self  up  first.  She  still  clutched  her  pie  —  at 
least  what  was  left  of  it;  the  white  meringue 
was  spread  over  the  man's  hair  and  face ;  but 
the  lemon  part  was  still  intact.  The  man 
sat  up  dazedly,  rubbed  the  meringue  from 
his  eyes,  cast  one  look  at  his  assailant,  and 
staggered  to  his  feet.  He  flattened  himself 
against  the  wall  with  arms  thrown  wide  for 
support. 

"  Holy  gee  1  "  he  choked.  "  What  in  hell 
uv  I  got  into?  " 

Patty  excused  his  language,  as  he  did  not 
appear  to  know  that  he  was  addressing  a 
.lady.  He  seemed  to  be  laboring  under  the 
impression  that  she  was  the  devil. 

Her  pillow  slip  by  now  was  very  much 
askew;  one  ear  pointed  northward,  the  other 
southeast,  and  she  could  only  see  out  of  one 
eye.  It  was  very  hot  inside  and  she  was 
gasping  for  breath.  For  a  palpitating  mo- 
ment they  merely  stared  and  panted.  Then 
Patty's  mind  began  to  work. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  suggested,  "  you  are  the 
burglar  they  are  screaming  about?  " 

The  man  leaned  back  limply  and  stared, 
290 


The   Lemon   Pie 

his  wide,  frightened  eyes  shining  through  a 
fringe  of  meringue. 

"I,"  said  Patty,  completing  the  introduc- 
tion, "  am  the  ghost." 

He  muttered  something  under  his  breath. 
She  could  not  make  out  whether  he  was  pray- 
ing or  swearing. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  she  added  kindly.  "  I 
won't  hurt  you." 

"  Is  it  a  bloomin'  insane  asylum?  " 

"  Just  a  girl's  school." 

"Gosh!"  he  observed. 

"Hush!"  said  Patty.  "They're  com- 
ing!" 

The  sound  of  running  feet  became  audible 
in  the  kitchen  above,  while  bass  voices  were 
added  to  the  shrill  soprano  that  had  sounded 
the  former  tocsin.  The  men  had  arrived 
from  the  stables.  The  burglar  and  the 
ghost  regarded  each  other  for  a  moment  of 
suspended  breathing;  their  mutual  danger 
drew  them  together.  Patty  hesitated  an  in- 
stant, while  she  studied  his  face  as  it  showed 
through  the  interstices  of  the  meringue.  He 
had  honest  blue  eyes  and  yellow  curls.  She 
291 


Just    Patty 

suddenly  stretched  out  a  hand  and  grasped 
him  by  an  elbow. 

"  Quick!  They'll  be  here  in  a  minute. 
I  know  a  place  to  hide.  Come  with  me." 

She  pushed  him  unresisting  down  a  pas-- 
sage and  into  a  storeroom,  boarded  off  from 
the  main  cellar,  where  the  scenery  of  the 
dramatic  society  was  kept. 

"  Get  down  on  your  hands  and  knees  and 
follow  me,"  she  ordered,  as  she  stooped  low 
and  dived  behind  a  pile  of  canvas. 

The  man  crawled  after.  They  emerged 
at  the  farther  end  into  a  small  recess  behind 
some  canvas  trees.  Patty  sat  on  a  stump  and 
offered  a  wooden  rock  to  her  companion. 

'*  They  '11  never  think  of  looking  here," 
she  whispered.  "  Martin  's  too  fat  to  crawl 
through." 

A  small  barred  window  let  in  some  faint 
moonlight  and  they  had  an  opportunity  to 
study  each  other  more  at  leisure.  The  man 
did  not  yet  seem  comfortable  in  Patty's  pres- 
ence; he  was  occupying  the  farthest  possible 
corner  of  his  rock.  Presently  he  rubbed  his 
coat  sleeve  over  his  head  and  looked  long 
292 


The  Lemon   Pie 

and  earnestly  at  the  meringue.  He  was  evi- 
dently at  a  loss  to  identify  the  substance;  in 
the  rush  of  events  he  had  taken  no  note  of 
the  pie. 

Patty  brought  her  one  eye  to  bear  upon 
him. 

"I'm  simply  melting!"  she  whispered. 
"  Do  you  think  you  could  untie  that 
knot?" 

She  bent  her  head  and  presented  the  back 
of  her  neck. 

The  man  by  now  was  partially  reassured 
as  to  the  humanness  of  his  companion,  and 
he  obediently  worked  at  the  knot  but  with 
hands  that  trembled.  At  last  it  came  loose, 
and  Patty  with  a  sigh  of  relief  emerged  into 
the  open.  Her  hair  was  somewhat  tousled 
and  her  face  was  streaked  with  burnt  cork, 
but  her  blue  eyes  were  as  honest  as  his  own* 
The  sight  reassured  him. 

"  Gee !  "  he  muttered  in  a  wave  of  relief, 

"  Keep  still!  "  Patty  warned. 

The    hunt    was    growing    nearer.     There 
Was  the  sound  of  tramping  feet  in  the  laundry 
and  they  could  hear  the  men  talking. 
293 


Just   Patty 

"A  ghost  and  a  burglar!"  said  Martin, 
in  fine  scorn.  '*  That 's  a  likely  combination, 
ain't  it  now?  " 

They  made  an  obligatory  and  superficial 
search  through  the  coal  cellar.  Martin 
jocularly  inquiring: 

"  Did  ye  look  in  the  furnace,  Mike? 
Here  Osaki,  me  lad,  ye  're  small.  Take  a 
crawl  oop  the  poipes  and  see  if  the  ghost 
ain't  hidin'  there." 

They  opened  the  door  of  the  property- 
room  and  glanced  inside.  The  burglar 
ducked  his  head  and  held  his  breath,  while 
Patty  struggled  with  an  ill-timed  desire  to 
giggle.  Martin  was  in  a  facetious  mood. 
He  whistled  in  the  manner  of  calling  a  dog. 

"Here,  Ghostie!  Here,  Burgie!  Come 
here,  old  fellow!" 

They  banged  the  door  shut  and  their  foot- 
steps receded.  Patty  was  rocking  back  and 
forth  in  a  species  of  hysterics,  stuffing  the 
corner  of  the  sheet  into  her  mouth  to  keep 
from  laughing  audibly.  The  burglar's  teeth 
were  chattering. 

"Lord!"  he  breathed.  "It  may  be 
294 


The   Lemon   Pie 

funny  for  you,  Miss.     But  it  means  the  pen- 
itentiary for  me." 

Patty  interrupted  her  hysterics  and  re- 
garded him  with  disgust. 

"  It  would  mean  expulsion  for  me,  or  at 
least  something  awfully  unpleasant.  But 
that 's  no  reason  for  going  all  to  pieces. 
You  're  a  nice  sort  of  a  burglar !  Brace  up 
and  be  a  sport!  " 

He  mopped  his  brow  and  removed  another 
portion  of  icing. 

"  You  must  be  an  awful  amateur  to  break 
into  a  house  like  this,"  she  said  contemptu- 
ously. "  Don't  you  know  the  silver 's 
plated?" 

"  I  .difln't  know  nothin'  about  it,"  he  said 
sullenly.  "  I  see  the  window  open  over  the 
shed  roof  and  I  clum  up.  I  was  hungry  and 
was  lookin'  for  somethin'  to  eat.  I  ain't  had 
nothin'  since  yesterday  mornin'." 

Patty  reached  to  the  floor  beside  her. 

"  Have  some  pie." 

The  man  ducked  aside  as  it  was  poked  at 
him. 

"  W-what  's  that?  "  he  gasped. 
295 


Just    Patty 

He  was  as  nervous  as  a  mouse  in  a  cage. 

"  Lemon  pie.  It  looks  a  little  messy  but 
it 's  all  right.  The  only  thing  the  matter 
with  :t  is  that  it  has  lost  its  meringue  top. 
That  's  mostly  on  your  head.  The  rest  of 
it  is  spread  over  me  and  the  laundry  floor 
and  Evalina  Smith's  bed  and  the  clothes 
chute." 

"  Oh!  "  he  murmured  in  evident  relief,  as 
he  rubbed  his  hand  over  his  hair  for  the 
fourth  time.  "  I  was  wonderin'  what  the 
blame  stuff  was." 

"  But  the  lemon  's  all  here,"  she  urged. 
"  You  'd  better  eat  it.  It 's  quite  nourish- 
ing." 

He  accepted  the  pie  and  fell  to  eating  it 
with  an  eagerness  that  carried  out  the  truth  of 
his  assertion  as  to  yesterday's  breakfast. 

Patty  watched  him,  her  natural  curiosity 
struggling  with  her  acquired  politeness.  The 
curiosity  triumphed. 

"  Do  you  mind  telling  me  how  you  came 
to  be  a  burglar?     You  make  such  a  remark- 
ably bad  one,  that  I  should  think  you  would 
have  chosen  almost  any  other  profession." 
296 


The   Lemon   Pie 

He  told  his  story  between  bites.  To  one 
more  experienced  in  police  records,  it  might 
have  sounded  a  trifle  fishy,  but  he  had  an 
honest  face  and  blue  eyes,  and  it  never  en- 
tered her  head  to  doubt  him.  The  burglar 
commenced  it  sullenly;  no  one  had  ever  be- 
lieved him  yet  and  he  was  n't  expecting  her 
to.  He  would  like  to  have  invented  some- 
thing a  little  more  plausible,  but  he  lacked 
the  imagination  to  tell  a  convincing  lie.  So, 
as  usual,  he  lamely  told  the  truth. 

Patty  listened  with  strained  attention. 
His  tale  was  somewhat  muffled  by  lemon  pie, 
and  his  vocabulary  did  not  always  coincide 
with  her  own,  but  she  managed  to  get  the 
gist  of  it. 

By  rights  he  was  a  gardener.  In  the  last 
place  where  he  worked  he  used  to  sleep  in 
the  attic,  because  the  gentleman  he  was  away 
a  lot,  and  the  lady  she  was  afraid  not  to 
have  a  man  in  the  house.  And  a  gas-fitter, 
that  he  had  always  thought  was  his  friendr 
give  him  some  beer  one  night  and  got  him 
drunk,  and  took  away  the  key  of  the  back 
door.  And  while  he  (the  gardener)  wa«- 
207 


Just   Patty 

sound  asleep  on  the  children's  sand  pile  under 
the  apple  tree  in  the  back  yard,  the  gas-fitter 
(entered  the  house  and  stole  an  overcoat  and 
3)  f  ilver  coffee-pot  and  a  box  of  cigars  and  a 
bottle  of  whiskey  and  two  umbrellas.  And 
they  proved  it  on  him  (the  gardener)  and 
le  was  sent  up  for  two  years.  And  when 
Ac  come  out,  no  one  would  n't  give  him  no 


"  An'  ye  can't  make  me  believe,"  he  .added 
bitterly,  "that  that  beer  wasn't  doped!  " 

"  Oh,  but  it  was  terrible  of  you  to  get 
drunk  !  "  said  Patty,  shocked. 

"  'T  was  an  accident,"  he  insisted. 

"  If  you  are  sure  that  you  '11  never  do  it 
again,"  she  said,  "  I  '11  get  you  a  job.  But 
you  must  promise,  on  your  word  of  honor  as 
a  gentleman.  You  know  I  couldn't  recom- 
mend a  drunkard." 

The  man  grinned  feebly. 

"  I  guess  ye  '11  not  be  findin'  anybody  that 
will  be  wantin'  a  jailbird." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will  !  I  know  exactly  the  man. 
He  's  a  friend  of  mine,  and  he  likes  jailbirds. 
He  realizes  that  it  's  only  luck  that  made 
298 


The   Lemon   Pie 

him  a  millionaire  instead  of  a  convict.  He 
always  gives  a  man  a  chance  to  start  again. 
He  used  to  have  a  murderer  in  charge  of 
his  greenhouses,  and  a  cattle  thief  to  milk 
the  cows.  I  'm  sure  he  '11  like  you.  Come 
with  me,  and  I  '11  write  you  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction." 

Patty  gathered  her  sheets  about  her  and 
prepared  to  crawl  out. 

"What  are  ye  doin'?"  he  demanded 
quickly.  "  Y'  are  n't  goin'  to  hand  me 
over?" 

"Is  it  likely?"  She  regarded  him  with 
scorn.  "  How  could  I  hand  you  over,  with- 
out handing  myself  over  at  the  same  time?  " 

The  logic  of  this  appealed  to  him,  and  he 
followed  meekly  on  hands  and  knees.  She 
approached  the  laundry  door  and  listened 
warily;  the  search  had  withdrawn  to  other 
quarters.  She  led  the  way  along  a  passage 
and  up  a  flight  of  stairs  and  slipped  into  the 
deserted  kindergarten  room. 

"  We  're  safe  here,"  she  whispered. 
"  They  Ve  already  searched  it." 

She  cast  about  for  writing  materials.  No 
299 


Just   Patty 

ink  was  to  be  found,  but  she  discovered  a 
red  crayon  pencil,  and  tore  a  sheet  of  paper 
from  a  copy  book.  "  Honesty  is  the  best 
policy,"  was  inscribed  in  flowing  characters 
at  the  top. 

She  hesitated  with  her  crayon  poised. 

"  If  I  get  you  a  nice  job  in  charge  of 
onions  and  orchids  and  things,  will  you  prom- 
ise never  again  to  drink  any  beer?  " 

"  Sure,"  he  agreed,  but  without  much  en- 
thusiasm. 

There  was  a  light  of  uneasiness  in  his  eye. 
Nothing  in  his  past  experience  tallied  with 
to-night's  adventure;  and  he  suspected  an 
ambush. 

"  Because,"  said  Patty,  "  it  would  be  aw- 
fully embarrassing  for  me  if  you  did  get 
drunk.  I  should  never  dare  recommend  an- 
other burglar." 

She  wrote  her  note  on  the  window  ledge, 
by  moonlight,  and  read  it  aloud : 

"  Dear  Mr.  Weatherby,— 

"  Do  you  remember  the  conversation  we  had  the 
day  I  ran  away  and  dropped  into  your  onion  garden  ? 
You  said  you  thought  criminals  were  often  quite  as 
300 


The  Lemon   Pie 

good  as  the  rest  of  us,  and  that  you  would  find  a 
job  for  any  convict  friend  I  might  present.  This  is 
to  introduce  a  burglar  of  my  acquaintance  who 
would  like  to  secure  a  position  as  gardener.  He  was 
trained  to  be  a  gardener  and  much  prefers  it  to 
burglaring,  but  finds  it  difficult  to  find  a  place  be- 
cause he  has  been  in  prison.  He  is  faithful,  honest 
and  industrious,  and  promises  to  be  sober.  I  shall 
appreciate  any  favor  you  may  show  him. 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  PATTY  WYATT." 

"  P.  S. —  Please  excuse  this  red  crayon.  I  am 
writing  at  midnight,  by  moonlight  in  the  kinder- 
garten room,  and  the  ink  's  all  locked  up.  The  bur- 
glar will  explain  the  circumstances,  which  are  too 
complicated  to  write. 

"  Yours  ever, 

"  P.  W." 

She  enclosed  her  note  in  a  large  manila 
envelope  that  had  contained  weaving  mats, 
and  addressed  it  to  Silas  Weatherby,  Esq. 
The  man  received  it  gingerly.  He  seemed 
to  think  that  it  might  go  off. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  said  Patty. 
"  Are  you  afraid  of  it?  " 

'  Ye  're     sure,"     he     asked    suspiciously, 
"  that  Silas  Weatherby  ain't  a  cop?  " 
301 


Just   Patty 


"  He  's  a  railroad  president." 

"  Oh!  "     The  burglar  looked  relieved. 

Patty  unlocked  the  window,  then  paused 
for  a  final  moral  lecture. 

"  I  am  giving  you  a  chance  to  begin  again. 
If  you  are  game,  and  present  this  letter, 
you  '11  get  a  job.  If  you  're  a  coward,  and 
don't  dare  present  it,  you  can  keep  on  being 
a  burglar  for  the  rest  of  your  life  for  all 
I  care  —  and  a  mighty  poor  one  you  'II 
make !  " 

She  opened  the  window  and  waved  her 
hand  invitingly  toward  the  outside  world. 

"  Good-by,  Miss,"  he  said. 

"  Good-by,"  said  Patty  cordially.  "  And 
good  luck !  " 

He  paused,  half  in,  half  out,  for  a  last  re- 
assurance. 

4  Ye  're  sure  it 's  on  the  straight,  Miss  ? 
Y'  ain't  pitchin'  me  no  curve?  " 

"  It 's  on  the  straight."  She  pledged  her 
word.  "  I  ain't  pitchin'  you  no  curve." 

Patty  crept  upstairs  the  back  way,  and  by 
a  wide  detour  avoided  the  excited  crowd  still 
gathered  in  the  East  Wing.  A  fresh  hub- 
302 


The  Lemon   Pie 

bub  had  arisen,  for  Evalina  Smith  had  found 
a  monkey-wrench  on  the  floor  of  her  room. 
It  was  shown  to  the  scoffing  Martin  as  visible 
proof  that  the  burglar  had  been  there. 

"  An'  it 's  me  own  wrench !  "  he  cried  in 
wide-eyed  amazement.  "  Now,  what  do 
ye  think  of  his  nerve?" 

Patty  hurriedly  undressed  and  tumbled 
into  a  kimono.  Sleepily  rubbing  her  eyes, 
she  joined  the  assemblage  in  the  hall. 

"What's  happened?"  she  asked,  blink- 
ing at  the  lights,  "  has  there  been  a  fire?  " 

A  chorus  of  laughter  greeted  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  It 's  a  burglar !  "  said  Conny,  exhibiting 
the  wrench. 

"  Oh,  why  didn't  you  wake  me?"  Patty 
wailed.  "  I  Ve  wanted  all  my  life  to  see  a 
burglar." 

Two  weeks  later,  a  groom  arrived  on 
horseback  with  a  polite  note  for  the  Dow- 
ager. 

Mr.  Weatherby  presented  his  compliments 
to  Mrs.  Trent,  and  desired  the  pleasure  of 
303 


Just    Patty 

showing  the  young  ladies  of  the  Senior  class 
through  his  art  gallery  on  Friday  next  at  four 
o'clock. 

The  Dowager  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for 
this  gratuitous  courtesy  on  the  part  of  her 
hitherto  unneighborly  neighbor.  After  a  mo- 
ment of  deliberation,  she  decided  to  meet  him 
half  way;  and  the  groom  rode  back  with  an 
equally  polite  acceptance. 

On  Friday  next,  as  the  school  hearse 
turned  in  at  the  gates  of  Weatherby  Hall, 
the  owner  stood  on  the  portico  waiting  to 
welcome  his  guests.  If  there  were  4  shade 
more  empressement  in  his  greeting  to  Patty 
than  to  her  companions,  the  Dowager  did  not 
notice  it. 

He  made  an  exceptionally  attentive  host. 
In  person  he  conducted  them  through  the 
gallery  and  pointec.  out  the  famous  Botticelli. 
Tea  was  served  at  little  tables  set  on  the  west- 
tern  terrace.  Each  girl  found  a  gardenia  at 
'her  plate  and  a  silver  bonbonniere  with  the 
St.  Ursula  monogram  on  the  cover.  After 
tea  their  host  suggested  a  visit  to  the  Italian 
garden.  As  they  strolled  through  the  paths, 
304 


The   Lemon   Pie 

Patty  found  herself  walking  beside  him  and 
the  Dowager.  His  conversation  was  ad- 
dressed to  Mrs.  Trent,  but  an  occasional 
amused  glance  was  directed  toward  Patty. 
They  turned  a  corner  behind  a  marble  pa- 
vilion, and  came  upon  a  fountain  and  a  gar- 
dener man,  intent  upon  a  border  of  maiden- 
hair ferns. 

"  I  have  a  very  remarkable  new  Swedish 
gardener,"  Mr.  Weatherby  casually  re- 
marked to  the  Dowager.  "  The  man  is  a 
genius  at  making  plants  grow.  He  came 
highly  recommended.  Oscar!  "  he  called. 
"  Bring  the  ladies  some  of  those  tulips." 

The  man  dropped  his  watering-can,  and 
approached,  hat  in  hand.  He  was  a  golden- 
haired,  blue-eyed  young  chap  with  an  honest 
smile.  He  presented  his  flowers,  first  to  the 
elder  lady  and  then  to  Patty.  As  he  caught 
her  interested  gaze,  a  light  of  comprehension 
suddenly  leaped  to  his  eyes.  Her  costume 
and  make-up  to-day  were  so  very  dissimilar 
to  those  which  she  had  assumed  on  the  occa= 
sion  of  their  first  meeting,  that  recognition 
on  his  part  had  not  been  instantaneous. 
305 


Just    Patty 

Patty  fell  back  a  step  to  receive  her  flowers 
and  the  others  strolled  on. 

"  I  have  to  thank  ye,  Miss,"  he  said  grate- 
fully, "  for  the  finest  job  I  ever  had.  It 's 
all  right!" 

"  You  know  now,"  Patty  laughed,  "  that 
I  didn't  pitch  you  no  curves?" 


XII 

The  Gypsy  Trail 


XII 

The   Gypsy   Trail 


nEELS     together.     Hips     firm. 
One,  two,  three,  four  —  Irene 


McCullough!  Will  you  keep 
your  shoulders  back  and  your 
stomach  in?  How  many  times  must  I  tell 
you  to  stand  straight  ?  That 's  better ! 
iWe  '11  start  again.  One,  two,  three,  four." 

The  exercise  droned  on.  Some  twenty  of 
the  week's  delinquents  were  working  off  demer- 
its. It  was  uncongenial  work  for  a  sunny 
Saturday.  The  twenty  pairs  of  eyes  gazed 
beyond  Miss  Jellings'  head  —  across  ropes 
and  rings  and  parallel  bars  —  toward  the 
green  tree  tops  and  the  blue  sky;  and  twenty 
girls,  for  that  brief  hour,  regretted  their  past 
badnesses. 

Miss  Jellings  herself  seemed  to  be  a  bit 
309 


Just   Patty 


on  edge.  She  snapped  out  her  orders  with 
a  curtness  that  brought  a  jerkily  quick  response 
from  forty  waving  Indian  clubs.  As  she 
stood  straight  and  slim  in  her  gymnasium 
suit,  her  cheeks  flushed  with  exercise,  she 
looked  quite  as  young  as  any  of  her  pupils. 
But  if  she  appeared  young,  she  also  appeared 
determined.  No  instructor  in  the  school, 
not  even  Miss  Lord  in  Latin,  kept  stricter 
discipline. 

44  One,  two,  three,  four  —  Patty  Wyatt! 
Keep  your  eyes  to  the  front.  It  is  n't  neces- 
sary for  you  to  watch  the  clock.  I  shall  dis- 
miss the  class  when  I  am  ready.  Over  your 
heads.  One,  two,  three,  four."  Finally, 
when  nerves  were  almost  at  the  breaking 
point,  came  the  grateful  order,  44  Atten- 
tion! Right  about  face.  March.  Clubs 
in  racks.  Double  quick.  Halt.  Break 
ranks." 

With  a  relieved  whoop,  the  class  dis- 
persed. 

4  Thank  heaven,  there  's  only  one  more 
week  of  it!"  Patty  breathed,  as  they  re- 
gained their  own  quarters  in  Paradise  Alley. 
310 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

"  Good-by  to  Gym  forever!"  Conny 
waved  a  slipper  over  her  head.  "  Hooray !  " 

"  Is  n't  Jelly  awful?"  Patty  demanded, 
still  smarting  from  the  recent  insult.  "  She 
never  used  to  be  so  bad.  What  on  eartL  hat, 
got  into  her?  " 

"  She  is  pretty  snappy,"  Priscilla  agreed. 
"  But  I  like  her  just  the  same.  She  's  so  — 
so  sort  of  spirited,  you  know  —  like  a  skittish 
horse." 

"  Urn,"  growled  Patty.  "  I  'd  like  to  see 
a  good,  big,  husky  man  get  the  upper  hand 
of  Jelly  once,  and  just  make  her  toe  the 
mark!" 

'  You  two  will  have  to  hurry,"  Priscilla 
warned,  "  if  you  want  to  get  into  your  cos- 
tumes up  here.  Martin  starts  in  half  an 
hour." 

"We'll  be  ready!"  Patty  was  already 
plunging  her  face  into  an  inky  mixture  in  the 
wash  bowl. 

The  fancy-dress  lawn  fete,  which  St. 
Ursula's  School  held  on  the  last  Friday  in 
every  May,  had  occurred  tfae  evening  before; 
and  this  afternoon  the  girls  were  redonning 


Just    Patty 


their  costumes  to  make  a  trip  to  the  village 
photographer's.  The  complicated  costumes, 
that  required  time  and  space  for  their  proper 
adjustment,  were  to  be  assumed  at  the  school 
and  driven  down  in  the  hearse.  Those 
more  simple  of  arrangement  were  to  go  in 
the  trolley  car,  and  be  donned  in  the  cramped 
quarters  of  the  gallery  dressing-room. 

Patty  and  Conny,  whose  make-up  was  a 
very  delicate  matter,  were  dressing  at  the 
school.  They  had  gone  as  Gypsies  —  not 
comic  opera  Gypsies,  but  real  Gypsies,  dirty 
and  ragged  and  patched.  (They  had  daily 
dusted  the  room  with  their  costumes  for  a 
week  before  the  fete.)  Patty  wore  one 
brown  stocking  and  one  black,  with  a  con- 
spicuous hole  in  the  right  calf.  Conny's 
toes  protruded  from  one  shoe,  and  the  sole 
of  the  other  flapped.  Their  hair  was  un- 
kempt and  the  stain  on  their  faces  streaked. 
They  were  the  last  word  in  realism. 

They  scrambled  into  their  dresses  to-day 
with  little  ceremony,  and  hitched  them  to- 
gether anyhow.  Conny  caught  up  a  tam- 
bourine and  Patty  a  worn-out  pack  of  cards, 
312 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

and  they  clattered  down  the  tin-covered  back 
stairs.  In  the  lower  hall  they  came  face  to 
face  with  Miss  Jellings,  clothed  in  cool  mus- 
lin, and  in  a  more  affable  frame  of  mind. 
Patty  never  held  her  grudges  long;  she  had 
already  forgotten  her  momentary  indigna- 
tion at  not  being  allowed  to  look  at  the 
clock. 

*  You   cross-a   my  hand  with   silver  ?     I 
tell-a  your  fortune." 

She  danced  up  to  the  gymnasium  teacher 
with  a  flutter  of  scarlet  petticoats,  and  poked 
out  a  dirty  hand. 

"  Nice-a  fortune,"  Conny  added  with  a 
persuasive  rattle  of  the  tambourine.  "  Tall, 
dark-a  young  man." 

*  You  impudent  little  ragamuffins !  "    Miss 
Jellings  took  them  each  by  the  shoulder  and 
turned  them   for  inspection.     "What  have 
you  done  to  your  faces?  " 

"  Washed  'em  in  black  coffee." 

Miss  Jellings  shook  her  head  and  laughed. 

"  You  're  a  disgrace  to  the  school !  "  she 
pronounced.     "  Don't  let  any  policeman  see 
you,  or  he  '11  arrest  you  for  vagabonds." 
313 


Just    Patty 

"Patty!  Conny!  — Hurry  up.  The 
hearse  is  starting." 

Priscilla  appeared  in  the  doorway  and 
waved  her  gridiron  frantically.  Priscilla, 
late  about  finding  a  costume,  at  the  last 
moment  had  blasphemously  gone  as  St.  Lau- 
rence, draped  in  a  sheet,  with  the  kitchen 
broiler  under  her  arm. 

"We're  coming  1  Tell  him  to  wait." 
Patty  dashed  out. 

"Don't  you  want  a  coat?"  Conny 
shrieked  after  her. 

"  No  —  come  on  —  we  don't  need  coats." 

The  two  raced  down  the  drive  after  the 
wagonette  —  Martin  never  waited  for  lag- 
gards; he  let  them  run  and  catch  up.  They 
sprang  onto  the  rear  step;  and  half-a-dozen 
outstretched  hands  hauled  them  in,  head 
first. 

They  found  the  photographer's  waiting- 
room  a  scene  of  the  maddest  confusion. 
When  sixty  excited  people  occupy  the  normal 
space  of  twelve,  the  effect  is  not  restful. 

"  Did  anyone  bring  a  button-hook?  " 

"  Lend  me  some  powder." 
3H 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

"  That 's  my  safety-pin !  " 

"  Where  'd  you  put  the  burnt  cork?" 

"  Is  my  hair  a  perfect  sight?  " 

"  Fasten  me  up  —  please  1  " 

"  Does  my  petticoat  show?  " 

Everybody  babbled  at  once,  and  nobody 
listened. 

"  I  say,  let 's  get  out  of  this  —  I  'm  roast- 
ing!" 

St.  Laurence  seized  the  Gypsies  by  the 
shoulder  and  shoved  them  into  the  vacant 
gallery.  They  squeezed  themselves,  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  onto  a  shaky  flight  of  six  nar- 
row stairs  before  the  breezes  of  an  open  win- 
dow. 

"I  know  exactly  what  ails  Jelly!  "  Patty 
spoke  with  the  air  of  carrying  on  a  conversa- 
tion. 

"  What?"  asked  the  others,  with  interest. 

"  She  's  had  a  quarrel  with  that  Laurence 
Gilroy  man  who  is  manager  at  the  electric 
light  place.  Don't  you  remember  how  he 
used  to  be  hanging  about  all  the  time  ?  And 
now  he  never  comes  at  all?  He  was  out 
every  day  in  the  Christmas  vacation.  They 
315. 


Just    Patty 

used  to  go  walking  together  —  and  without 
any  chaperone,  too!  You  would  think  the 
Dowager  would  have  made  an  awful  fuss, 
but  she  didn't  seem  to.  Anyway,  you 
should  have  seen  the  way  Miss  Jellings 
treated  that  man  —  it  was  per-fect-ly  dread- 
full  The  way  she  jumps  on  Irene  McCul- 
lough  is  nothing  to  the  way  she  jumped  on 
him." 

"  He  does  n't  have  to  work  off  demer- 
its. He  's  a  fool  to  stand  it,"  said  Conny 
simply. 

"  He  does  n't  stand  it  any  more." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  Well,  I  —  sort  of  heard.  I  was  in  the 
library  alcove  one  day  in  the  Christmas  va- 
cation, reading  the  *  Murders  in  the  Rue 
Morgue,'  when  Jelly  and  Mr.  Gilroy  walked 
in.  They  didn't  see  me,  and  I  didn't  pay 
any  attention  to  them  at  first  —  I'd  just  got 
to  the  place  where  the  detective  says,  *  Is  that 
the  mark  of  a  human  hand  ?  ' —  but  pretty 
soon  they  got  to  scrapping  so  that  I  could  n't 
help  but  hear,  and  I  felt  sort  of  embarrassed 
about  interrupting." 

316 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

"  What  did  they  say?  "  asked  Conny,  im- 
patiently brushing  aside  her  apologies. 

"  I  did  n't  grasp  it  entirely.  He  was 
trying  to  explain  about  something,  and  she 
would  n't  listen  to  a  word  he  said  —  she  was 
perfectly  horrid.  You  know, —  the  way  she 
is  when  she  says,  *  I  understand  it  perfectly. 
I  don't  care  to  hear  any  excuse.  You  may 
take  ten  demerits,  and  report  on  Saturday 
for  extra  gymnasium.' — Well,  they  kept 
that  up  for  fifteen  minutes,  both  of  'em  get- 
ting stiffer  and  stiffer.  Then  he  took  his 
hat  and  went.  And  you  know,  I  don't  be- 
lieve he  ever  came  back  —  I've  never  seen 
him.  And  now,  she  's  sorry.  She  's  been  as 
cross  as  a  bear  ever  since." 

"  And  she  can  be  awfully  nice,"  said  Pris- 
cilla. 

"  Yes,  she  can/'  said  Patty.  "  But  she  's 
too  cocky.  I  'd  just  like  to  see  that  man 
come  back,  and  show  her  her  place !  " 

The  masqueraders  trooped  in  and  the  seri- 
ous business  of  the  day  commenced.  The 
school  posed  as  a  whole,  then  an  infinity  of 
smaller  groups  disentangled  themselves  and 
317. 


Just   Patty 

posed  separately,  while  those  who  were  not 
in  the  picture  stood  behind  the  camera  and 
made  the  others  laugh. 

"  Young  ladies!  "  the  exasperated  photog- 
rapher implored.  "  Will  you  kindly  be 
quiet  for  just  two  seconds  ?  You  have  made 
me  spoil  three  plates.  And  will  that  monk 
on  the  end  stop  giggling?  Now!  All 
ready.  Please  keep  your  eyes  on  the  stove- 
pipe hole,  and  hold  your  positions  while  I 
count  three.  One,  two,  three  —  thank 
you!" 

He  removed  his  plate  with  a  flourish,  and 
dove  into  the  dark  room. 

It  was  Patty's  and  Conny's  turn  to  be 
taken  alone,  but  St.  Ursula  and  her  Eleven 
Thousand  Virgins  were  clamoring  for  prece- 
dence on  the  ground  of  superior  numbers, 
and  they  made  such  a  turmoil  that  the  two 
Gypsies  politely  stood  aside. 

Keren  Hersey,  as  St.  Ursula,  and  eleven 
little  Junior  A's —  each  playing  the  mani- 
fold part  of  a  Thousand  Virgins  —  made  up 
the  group.  It  was  to  be  a  symbolical  picture, 
Keren  explained* 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

When  the  Gypsies'  turn  came  a  second 
time,  Patty  had  the  misfortune  to  catch  her 
dress  on  a  nail  and  tear  a  three-cornered  rent 
in  the  front.  It  was  too  large  a  hole  for 
even  a  Gypsy  to  carry  off  with  propriety;  she 
retired  to  the  dressing-room  and  fastened 
the  edges  together  with  white  basting  thread. 

Finally,  last  of  all,  they  presented  them- 
selves in  their  dirt  and  tatters.  The  photog- 
rapher was  an  artist,  and  he  received  them 
with  appreciative  delight.  The  others  had 
been  patently  masqueraders,  but  these  were 
the  real  thing.  He  photographed  them 
dancing,  and  wandering  on  a  lonely  moor 
with  threatening  canvas  clouds  behind  them. 
He  was  about  to  take  them  in  a  forest,  with 
a  camp  fire,  and  a  boiling  kettle  slung  from 
three  sticks  —  when  Conny  suddenly  be- 
came aware  of  a  brooding  quiet  that  had  set- 
tled on  the  place. 

"Where  is  everybody ?" 

She  returned  from  a  hasty  excursion  into 
the  waiting-room,  divided  between  consterna- 
tion and  laughter. 

"  Patty!     The  hearse  has  gone  I  —  And 


Just   Patty 

the  street-car  people  are  waiting  on  the  cor- 
ner by  Marsh  and  Elkins's." 

"  Oh,  the  beasts  1  They  knew  we  were 
in  here."  Patty  dropped  her  three  sticks 
and  rose  precipitately.  "Sorry  I"  she 
called  to  the  photographer,  who  was  busily 
dusting  off  the  kettle.  "  We  Ve  got  to 
run." 

"  And  we  have  n't  any  coats !  "  wailed 
Conny.  "  Miss  Wadsworth  won't  take  us 
in  the  car  in  these  clothes." 

"She'll  have  to,"  said  Patty  simply. 
"  She  can't  leave  us  on  the  corner." 

They  clattered  downstairs,  but  wavered 
an  instant  in  the  friendly  darkness  of  the 
doorway;  there  was  no  time,  however,  for 
maidenly  hesitations,  and  taking  their  cour- 
age in  both  hands,  they  plunged  into  the 
Saturday  afternoon  crowd  that  thronged 
Main  Street. 

"Oh,  Mama!  Quick!  Look  at  the 
Gypsies,"  a  little  boy  squealed  as  the  two 
pushed  past. 

"  Heavens !  "  Conny  whispered.  "  I  feel 
like  a  circus  parade." 

320 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

"Hurry!"  Patty  panted,  taking  her  by 
the  hand  and  beginning  to  run.  "  The  car  's 
stopped  and  they  're  getting  in  —  Wait ! 
Wait!"  She  frenziedly  waved  the  tam- 
bourine above  her  head. 

An  express  wagon  at  the  crossing  blocked 
their  progress.  The  last  of  the  Eleven 
Thousand  Virgins  climbed  aboard,  without 
once  glancing  over  her  shoulder ;  and  the  car, 
unheeding,  clanged  away,  and  became  a  yel- 
low spot  in  the  distance.  The  two  Gypsies 
stood  on  the  corner  and  stared  at  one  an- 
otiier  in  blank  interrogation. 

"  I  have  n't  a  cent  —  have  you?  " 

"  Not  one." 

"  How  are  we  going  to  get  home  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  an  idea." 

Patty  felt  her  elbow  jostled.  She  turned 
to  find  young  John  Drew  Dominick  Murphy, 
a  protege  of  the  school,  and  an  intimate 
acquaintance  of  her  own,  regarding  her  with 
impish  delight. 

"Hey,  youse!  Give  us  a  song  and 
dance." 

"  At  least  our  friends  don't  recognize  us," 
321 


Just    Patty 

said  Conny,  drawing  what  comfort  she  could 
from  her  incognito. 

Quite  a  crowd  had  gathered  by  now,  and 
it  was  rapidly  growing  larger.  Pedestrians 
had  to  make  a  detour  into  the  street  in  order 
to  get  past. 

"  It  would  n't  take  us  long,"  said  Patty,  a 
spark  of  mischief  breaking  through  the  blank- 
ness  in  her  face,  "  to  earn  money  enough  for 
a  carriage  —  you  thump  the  tambourine  and 
I  '11  dance  the  sailor's  hornpipe." 

"  Patty !  Behave  yourself."  Conny  for 
once  brought  a  dampening  supply  of  com- 
mon sense  to  bear  on  her  companion. 
'  We  're  going  to  graduate  in  another  week. 
For  goodness'  sake,  don't  let 's  get  expelled 
first." 

She  grasped  her  by  the  elbow  and  shoved 
her  insistently  down  a  side  street.  John 
Drew  Murphy  and  his  friends  followed  for 
several  blocks,  but  having  gazed  their  fill, 
and  perceiving  that  the  Gypsies  had  no  en- 
tertainment to  offer,  they  gradually  dropped 
away. 

"  Well,  what  shall  we  do?  "  asked  Conny, 
322 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

when  they  had  finally  shaken  off  the  last  of 
the  small  boys. 

"  I  s'pose  we  could  walk." 

14  Walk!"  Conny  exhibited  her  flapping 
sole.  "  You  don't  expect  me  to  walk  three 
miles  in  that  shoe?" 

"  Very  well,"  said  Patty.  "  What  shall 
we  do?" 

"  We  might  go  back  to  the  photographer's 
and  borrow  some  car-fare." 

"  No !  I  'm  not  going  to  parade  myself 
the  length  of  Main  Street  again  with  that 
hole  in  my  stocking." 

"  Very  well,"  Conny  shrugged.  "  Think 
cf  something." 

"  I  suppose  we  could  go  to  the  livery 
stable  and — " 

"  It 's  on  the  other  side  of  town  —  I  can't 
flap  all  that  distance.  Every  time  I  take  a 
step,  I  have  to  lift  my  foot  ten  inches 
high." 

"  Very  well."  It  was  Patty's  turn  to 
shrug.  "  Perhaps  you  can  think  of  some- 
thing better?" 

"  I  think  the  simplest  way  would  be  to 
323 


Just   Patty 

take  a  car,  and  ask  the  conductor  to  charge 


it." 


"  Yes  —  and  explain  for  the  benefit  of  all 
the  passengers  that  we  belong  at  St.  Ursula':, 
School  ?  It  would  be  all  over  town  by  night, 
and  the  Dowager  would  be  furious." 

"  Very  well  —  what  shall  we  do?  " 

They  were  standing  at  the  moment  before 
a  comfortable  frame  house  with  three  chil 
dren  romping  on  the  veranda.     The  children 
left  off  their  play  to  come  to  the  top  of  the 
steps  and  stare. 

"  Come  on !  "  Patty  urged.  "  We  '11  sing 
the  '  Gypsy  Trail.'  "  r(This  was  the  latest 
song  that  had  swept  the  school.)  "  J ' 
play  an  accompaniment  on  the  tambourine, 
and  you  can  flap  your  sole.  Maybe  they  '11 
give  us  ten  cents.  It  would  be  a  beautiful 
lark  to  earn  our  car-fare  home  —  I  'm  sure 
it  Js  worth  ten  cents  to  hear  me  sing." 

Conny  glanced  up  and  down  the  deserted 
street.  No  policeman  was  in  sight.  She 
grudgingly  allowed  herself  to  be  drawn  up 
the  walk,  and  the  music  began.  The  chil- 
dren applauded  loudly;  and  the  two  were 
324 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

just  congratulating  themselves  on  a  very 
credible  performance,  when  the  door  opened 
and  a  woman  appeared  —  a  first  cousin  to 
Miss  Lord. 

"  Stop  that  noise  immediately !  There  's 
somebody  sick  inside." 

The  tone  also  was  reminiscent  of  Latin. 
They  turned  and  ran  as  fast  as  Conny's 
flapping-  sole  would  take  her.  When  they 
had  put  three  good  blocks  between  them- 
selves and  the  Latin  woman,  they  dropped 
down  on  a  friendly  stepping-stone,  and 
leaned  against  each  other's  shoulders  and 
laughed. 

A  man  rounded  the  corner  of  the  house 
before  them,  pushing  a  mowing  machine. 

"  Here,  you !  "  he  ordered.     "  Move  on." 

They  got  up,  meekly,  and  moved  on  sev- 
eral blocks  further.  They  were  going  in  ex- 
actly the  opposite  direction  from  St.  Ursula's 
school,  but  they  could  n't  seem  to  hit  on  any- 
thing else  to  do,  so  they  kept  on  moving 
mechanically.  They  had  arrived  in  the  out- 
skirts of  the  village  by  now,  and  they  pres- 
ently found  themselves  face  to  face  with  a 
325 


Just    Patty- 
tall  chimney  and  a  group  of  low  buildings 
set  in  a  wide  enclosure  —  the  water-works 
and  electric  plant. 

A  light  of  hope  dawned  in  Patty's  eyes. 

"  I  '11  tell  you !  We  '11  go  and  ask  Mr, 
Gilroy  to  take  us  home  in  his  automobile." 

"  Do  you  know  him?  "  Conny  asked  dubi- 
ously. She  had  received  so  many  affronts 
that  she  was  growing  timid. 

*  Ye?.!  I  know  him  intimately.  He  was 
under  foot  every  minute  during  the  Christ- 
mas vacation  We  had  a  snow  fight  one 
day.  Come  on !  He  '11  love  to  run  us  out. 
It  will  give  him  an  excuse  to  make  up  with 
Jelly." 

They  passed  up  a  narrow  tarred  walk 
toward  the  brick  building  labeled  "  Office." 
Four  clerks  and  a  typewriter  girl  in  the  outer 
office  interrupted  their  work  to  laugh  as  the 
two  apparitions  appeared  in  the  door.  The 
younp1  man  nearest  them  whirled  his  chair 
around  in  order  tr  get  a  better  view. 

"Hello,  girls!"  he  said  with  cheerful 
familiarity.  "  Where  'd  you  spring  from?  " 

The  typewriter,   meanwhile,   was  making 
$26 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

audible  comments  upon  the  discrepancies  in 
Patty's  hosiery. 

Patty's  face  flushed  darkly  under  the 
coffee. 

"  We  have  called  to  see  Mr.  Gilroy,"  she 
said  with  dignity. 

"This  is  Mr.  Gilroy's  busy  day,"  the 
young  man  grinned.  "  Would  n't  you  rather 
talk  to  me?" 

Patty  drew  herself  up  haughtily. 

"  Please  tell  Mr.  Gilroy  —  at  once  — 
that  we  are  waiting  to  speak  to  him." 

"  Certainly !  I  beg  your  pardon."  The 
young  man  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  air  of 
elaborate  politeness.  "  Will  you  kindly  give 
me  your  cards?  " 

"  I  don't  happen  to  have  a  card  with  ma 
to-day.  Just  say  that  two  ladies  wish  tq 
speak  with  him." 

"  Ah,  yes.  One  moment,  please  —  Won't 
you  be  seated?  " 

He  offered  his  own  chair  to  Patty,  and 

bringing   forward  another,   presented  it  to 

Conny    with    a    Chesterfieldian    bow.     The 

clerks    tittered    delightedly    at    this    bit    of 

327 


Just    Patty 

comedy  acting,  but  the  Gypsies  did  not  con- 
descend to  think  it  funny.  They  accepted 
the  chairs  with  a  frigid,  "  Thank  you,"  and 
sat  stiffly  upright  staring  at  the  wastebasket 
in  their  most  distant  society  manner.  While 
the  deferential  young  man  was  conveying  the 
message  to  the  private  office  of  his  chief, 
public  oomment  advanced  from  Patty's  stock- 
ings to  Conny's  shoes.  He  returned  pres- 
ently, and  with  unruffled  politeness  invited 
them  please  to  step  this  way.  He  ushered 
them  in  with  a  bow. 

Mr.  Gilroy  was  writing,  and  it  was  a 
second  before  he  glanced  up.  His  eyes  wid- 
ened with  astonishment  —  the  clerk  had  de- 
livered the  message  verbatim.  He  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  and  studied  the  ladies  from 
head  to  foot,  then  emitted  a  curt: 

"Well?" 

There  was  not  a  trace  of  recognition  in  his 
glance. 

Patty's    only   intention   had   been   to    an* 

nounce  their  identity,  and  invite  him  to  de- 

liver  them  at  St.  Ursula's  door,  but  Patty 

was  incapable  of  approaching  any  matter  by 

328 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

the  direct  route  when  a  labyrinth  was  also 
available.  She  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  to 
Conny's  consternation,  plunged  into  the  laby- 
rinth. 

"You  Mr.  Laurence  K.  Gilroy?"  she 
dropped  a  curtsy.  "  I  come  find-a  you." 

"  So  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Laurence  K.  Gilroy, 
dryly.  "  And  now  that  you  Ve  found  me, 
what  do  you  want?  " 

"  I  want  tell-a  your  fortune,"  Patty  glibly 
dropped  into  the  lingo  she  and  Conny  had 
practised  on  the  school  the  night  before. 
"  You  cross-a  my  hand  with  silver  —  I  tell-a 
your  fortune." 

This  was  no  situation  of  Conny's  choosing, 
but  she  was  always  staunchly  game. 

"  Nice-a  fortune,"  she  backed  Patty  up. 
tc  Tall  young  lady.  VerJ  beautiful." 

"Well,  of  all  the  nerve!" 

Mr.  Gilroy  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
regarded  them  severely,  but  with  a  gleam  of 
amusement  flickering  through. 

"Where  did  you  get  my  name?"  he  de- 
manded. 

'Patty  waved  her  hand  airly  toward  the 
329 


Just   Patty 

open  window  and  the  distant  horizon  —  as 
it  showed  between  the  coal  sheds  and  the 
dynamo  building. 

"  Gypsy  peoples,  dey  learn  sings,"  she  ex- 
plained lucidly.  "  Sky,  wind,  clouds  —  all 
talk  —  but  you  no  understand.  I  get  mes- 
sage for  you  —  Mr.  Laurence  K.  Gilroy  — 
and  we  come  from  long-a  way  off  to  tell-a 
your  fortune."  With  a  pathetic  little  ges- 
ture, she  indicated  their  damaged  foot  gear. 
"  Ver'  tired.  We  travel  far." 

Mr.  Gilroy  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
produced  two  silver  half  dollars. 

"Here's  your  money.  Now  be  honest! 
What  sort  of  a  bunco  game  is  this?  And 
where  in  thunder  did  you  get  my  name  ?  " 

They  pocketed  the  money,  dropped  two 
more  curtsies,  and  evaded  inconvenient  ques- 
tions. 

"  We  tell-a  your  fortune,"  said  Conny, 
with  business-like  directness.  She  brought 
out  the  pack  of  cards,  plumped  herself  cross- 
legged  on  the  floor,  and  dealt  them  out  in  a 
wide  circle.  Patty  seized  the  gentleman's 
hand  in  her  two  coffee-stained  little  paws,  and 
330 


Patty  seized  the  gentleman's  hand 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

turned  it  palm  up  for  inspection.  He  made 
an  embarrassed  effort  to  draw  away,  but  she 
clung  with  the  tenacious  grip  of  a  monkey. 

"I  see  a  lady!"  she  announced  with 
promptitude. 

'*  Tall  young  lady  —  brown  eyes,  yellow 
hair,  ver'  beautiful,"  Conny  echoed  from  the 
floor,  as  she  leaned  forward  and  intently 
studied  the  queen  of  hearts. 

"  But  she  make-a  you  lot  of  trouble," 
Patty  added,  frowning  over  a  blister  on  his 
hand.  "  I  see  liT  quarrel." 

Mr.  Gilroy's  eyes  narrowed.  In  spite  of 
himself,  he  commenced  to  be  interested. 

"  You  like-a  her  very  much,"  pronounced 
Conny  from  below. 

"  But  you  never  see  her  any  more," 
chimed  in  Patty.  "  One  —  two  —  three  — 
four  months,  you  no  see  her,  no  spik  with 
her."  She  looked  up  into  his  startled  eyes. 
"  But  you  think  about  her  every  day!  " 

He  made  a  quick  movement  of  with- 
drawal, and  Patty  hastily  added  a  further 
detail. 

"  Dat  tall  young  lady,  she  ver'  unhappy 
3JI 


Just   Patty 


too.     She    no    laugh    no    more    like    she 
used." 

He  arrested  the  movement  and  waited 
with  a  touch  of  anxious  curiosity  to  hear 
what  was  coming  next. 

"  She  feel  ver'  bad  —  ver1  cross,  ver'  un- 
happy. She  thinks  always  'bout  that  liT 
quarrel.  Four  months  she  sit  and  wait  — 
but  you  never  come  back." 

Mr.  Gilroy  rose  abruptly  and  strode  to  the 
window. 

His  unexpected  visitors  had  dropped  from 
the  sky  at  the  psychological  moment.  For 
two  straight  hours  that  afternoon  he  had 
been  sitting  at  his  desk  grappling  with  the 
problem,  which  they,  in  their  broken  English, 
were  so  ably  handling.  Should  he  swallow 
a  great  deal  of  pride,  and  make  another  plea 
for  justice?  St.  Ursula's  vacation  was  at 
hand;  in  a  few  days  more  she  would  be  gone 
—  and  very  possibly  she  would  never  come 
back.  The  world  at  large  was  full  of  men, 
and  Miss  Jellings  had  a  taking  way. 

Conny  continued  serenely  to  study  her 
cards. 

332 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

"One  — More  — Chance!"  She  spoke 
with  the  authority  of  a  Grecian  sibyl.  *  You 
try  again,  you  win.  No  try,  you  lose." 

[Patty  leaned  over  Conny's  shoulder,  eager 
to  supply  a  salutary  bit  of  advice. 

"  Dat  tall  young  lady  too  much  — "  she 
hesitated  a  moment  for  fitting  expression  — 
"  too  much  head  in  air.  Too  bossy.  You 
make-a  her  mind?  Understand?  " 

Conny,  gazing  at  the  round-faced,  chubby 
Jack  of  Diamonds,  had  received  a  new 
idea. 

"  I  see  'nother  man,"  she  murmured. 
"  Red  hair  and  —  and  —  fat.  Not  too 
good-looking  but  — " 

"  Fery  dangerous!"  interpolated  Patty. 
"  You  have  no  time  to  waste.  He  comes 


soon." 


Now,  they  had  fabricated  this  detail  out 
of  nothing  in  the  world  but  pure  fancy  and 
the  Jack  of  Diamonds,  but  as  it  happened, 
they  had  touched  an  open  wound.  It  was 
an  exact  description  of  a  certain  rich  young 
man  in  the  neighboring  city,  who  loaded 
Miss  Jellings  with  favors,  and  whom  Mr. 
333 


Just    Patty 

Gilroy  detested  from  the  bottom  of  his  soul. 
All  that  afternoon,  mixed  in  with  his  prompt- 
ings and  hesitations  and  travail  of  spirit,  had 
loomed  large,  the  fair,  plump  features  of  his 
fancied  rival.  Mr.  Gilroy  was  a  common- 
sense  young  business  man,  as  free  as  most 
from  superstition ;  but  when  a  man  's  in  love 
he  is  open  to  omens. 

He  stared  fixedly  about  the  familiar  office 
and  out  at  the  coal  sheds  and  dynamo,  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  still  on  solid  earth. 
His  gaze  came  back  to  his  visitors  from  the 
sky  in  absolute,  anxious,  pleading  bewilder- 
ment. 

They  were  studying  the  cards  again  in  a 
frowning  endeavor  to  wrest  a  few  further 
items  from  their  overtaxed  imaginations. 
Patty  felt  that  she  had  already  given  him  fifty 
cents'  worth,  and  was  wondering  how  to  bring 
the  interview  to  a  graceful  end.  She  realized 
that  they  had  carried  the  farce  too  imperti- 
nently far,  ever  to  be  able  to  announce  their 
identity  and  suggest  a  ride  home.  The  only 
course  now,  was  to  preserve  their  incognito, 
make  good  their  escape,  and  get  back  as  best 
334 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

they  could  —  at  least  they  had  a  dollar  to 
aid  in  the  journey! 

She  glanced  up,  mentally  framing  a  pero- 
ration. 

"  I  see  good-a  fortune,"  she  commenced, 
"if—" 

Her  glance  passed  him  to  the  open  win- 
dow, and  her  heart  missed  a  beat.  Mrs. 
Trent  and  Miss  Sarah  Trent,  come  to  com- 
plain about  the  new  electric  lights,  were 
serenely  descending  from  their  carriage,  not 
twenty  feet  away. 

Patty's  hand  clutched  Conny's  shoulder  in 
a  spasmodic  grasp. 

"  Sallie  and  the  Dowager !  "  she  hissed  in 
her  ear.  "  Follow  me!  " 

With  a  sweep  of  her  hand,  Patty  scram- 
bled the  cards  together  and  rose.  There 
would  be  no  chance  to  escape  by  the  door; 
the  Dowager's  voice  was  already  audible  in 
the  outer  office. 

"Goo' by!"  said  Patty,  springing  to  the 
window.  "  Gypsies  call.  We  must  go." 

She  scrambled  over  the  sill  and  dropped 
eight  feet  to  the  ground.     Conny  followed. 
335 


* 


Just   Patty 

They  were  both  able  pupils  of  Miss  Jel« 
lings. 

Mr.  Laurence  K.  Gilroy,  open-mouthed, 
stood  staring  at  the  spot  where  they  had 
been.  The  next  instant,  he  was  bowing 
courteously  to  the  principals  of  St.  Ursula's, 
and  striving  hard  to  concentrate  a  dazed 
mind  upon  the  short-circuit  in  the  West 
Wing. 

Patty  and  Conny  left  the  car — and  a 
number  of  interested  passengers  —  at  the 
corner  before  they  reached  the  school.  Cir- 
cumnavigating the  wall,  until  they  were  op* 
posite  the  stables,  they  approached  the  house 
modestly  by  the  back  way.  They  had  the 
good  fortune  to  encounter  no  one  more  dan- 
gerous than  the  cook  (who  gave  them  some 
gingerbread)  and  they  ultimately  reached 
their  home  in  Paradise  Alley  none  the  worse 
for  the  adventure  —  and  ninety  cents  to  the 
good. 

When  the  long,  light  evenings  came,  St. 
Ursula's  no  longer  filled  in  the  interim  be- 
tween dinner  and  evening  study  with  indoor 
336 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

dancing,  but  romped  about  on  the  lawn  out- 
side. To-night,  being  Saturday,  there  was 
no  evening  study  to  call  them  in,  and  every- 
body was  abroad.  The  school  year  was  al- 
most over,  the  long  vacation  was  at  hand  — 
the  girls  were  as  full  of  bubbling  spirits  as 
sixty-four  young  lambs.  Games  of  blind- 
man's-buff,  and  pussy-wants-a-corner,  and 
cross-tag  were  all  in  progress  at  once.  A 
band  of  singers  on  the  gymnasium  steps  was 
drowning  out  a  smaller  band  on  the  porte- 
cochere;  half-a-dozen  hoop-rollers  were  trot- 
ting around  the  oval,  and  scattered  groups 
of  strollers,  meeting  in  the  narrow  paths, 
were  hailing  each  other  with  cheerful  calls. 

Patty  and  Conny  and  Priscilla,  washed 
and  dressed  and  chastened,  were  wandering 
arm  in  arm  through  the  summer  twilight, 
talking  —  a  trifle  soberly  —  of  the  long- 
looked-forward-to  future  that  was  now  so 
oppressively  close  upon  them. 

"  You  know,"  Patty  spoke  with  a  sort  of 
frightened  gulp  — "  in  another  week  we  '11 
be  grown-up!  " 

They  stopped  and  silently  looked  back 
337 


Just    Patty 

toward  the  gay  crowd  romping  on  the  lawn, 
toward  the  big  brooding  house,  that  through 
four  tempestuous,  hilarious,  care-free  years 
had  sheltered  them  so  kindly.  Grown-up- 
ness  seemed  a  barren  state.  They  longed  to 
stretch  out  their  hands  and  clutch  the  child- 
hood that  they  had  squandered  with  so  little 
thought. 

"Oh,  it's  horrible!"  Conny  breathed 
with  sudden  fierceness.  "I  want  to  stay 
young!  " 

In  this  unsocial  mood,  they  refused  an 
offered  game  of  hare-and-hounds,  and  evad- 
ing the  singers  on  the  gymnasium  steps  — 
the  song  was  the  "  Gypsy  Trail " —  they 
sauntered  on  down  the  pergola  to  the  lane, 
sprinkled  with  fallen  apple  blossoms.  At 
the  end  of  the  lane,  they  came  suddenly  upon 
two  other  solitary  strollers,  and  stopped 
short  with  a  gasp  of  unbelieving  wonder. 

"  It 's  Jelly !  "  Conny  whispered. 

"  And  Mr.  Gilroy,"  Patty  echoed. 

"  Shall  we  run?  "  asked  Conny,  in  a  panic. 

"  No,"  said  Patty,  "  pretend  not  to  notice 
him." 

33.8 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

The  three  advanced  with  eyes  discreetly 
bent  upon  the  ground,  but  Miss  Jellings 
greeted  them  gaily  as  she  passed.  There 
was  an  intangible,  excited,  happy  thrill  about 
her  manner  —  something  electric,  Patty 
said. 

"  Hello,  you  bad  little  Gypsies  1  " 

It  was  a  peculiarly  infelicitous  salutation, 
but  she  was  smilingly  unconscious  of  any  slip. 

"Gypsies?" 

Mr.  Gilroy  repeated  the  word,  and  his 
benumbed  faculties  began  to  work.  He 
stopped  and  scanned  the  trio  closely.  They 
were  clothed  in  dainty  muslin,  three  as  sweet 
young  girls  as  one  would  ever  meet.  But 
Patty  and  Conny,  even  in  the  failing  light, 
were  still  noticeably  brunette  —  it  takes  boil- 
ing water  to  get  out  coffee  stain. 

"Oh!" 

He  drew  a  deep  breath  of  enlightenment, 
while  many  emotions  struggled  for  suprem- 
acy in  his  face.  Conny  dropped  her  gaze 
embarassedly  to  the  ground;  Patty  threw 
back  her  head  and  faced  him.  He  and  she 
eyed  each  other  for  a  silent  instant.  In  that 
v<  339 


Just   Patty 

glance,  each  asked  the  other  not  to  tell  — 
and  each  mutely  promised. 

The  breeze  brought  the  chorus  of  the 
"Gypsy  Trail";  and  as  they  sauntered  on, 
Miss  Jellings  fell  softly  to  humming  the 
words  in  tune  with  the  distant  singers: 

"  And  the  Gypsy  blood  to  the  Gypsy  blood 
Ever  the  wide  world  over. 
Ever  the  wide  world  over,  lass, 
Ever  the  trail  held  true 
Over  the  world  and  under  the  world 
And  back  at  the  last  to  you. 

Follow  the  Romany  patteran  — -" 

The  words  died  away  in  the  shadows. 

Conny  and  Patty  and  Priscilla  stood  hand 
in  hand  and  looked  after  them. 

"The  school  has  lost  Jelly!  "  Patty  said, 
"  and  I  'm  afraid  that  we  're  to  blame, 
Con." 

"  I  'm  glad  of  it!  "  Conny  spoke  with  feel- 
ing. "  She  *s  much  too  nice  to  spend  her 
whole  life  telling  Irene  McCullough  to 
stand  up  straight  and  keep  her  stomach 


in." 


340 


The  Gypsy  Trail 

"  Anyway,"  Patty  added,  "  he  has  no 
right  to  be  angry,  because  —  without  us — • 
he  never  would  have  dared." 

They  kept  on  across  the  meadow  till  they 
came  to  the  pasture  bars,  where  they  leaned 
in  a  row  with  their  heads  tipped  back,  scan- 
ning the  darkening  sky.  Miss  Jellings's 
mood  was  somehow  catching;  the  little  con- 
tretemps had  stirred  them  strangely.  They 
felt  the  thrill  of  the  untried  future,  with  Ro- 
mance waiting  around  the  corner. 

"  You  know,"  Conny  broke  silence  after  a 
long  pause  — "  I  think,  after  all,  maybe  it 
will  be  sort  of  interesting." 

"What?"  asked  Priscilla. 

She  stretched  out  her  arm  in  a  wide  ges- 
ture that  comprised  the  night. 

"Oh,  everything!" 

Priscilla  nodded  understandingly,  and  pres- 
ently added  with  an  air  of  challenge : 

"  I  Ve  changed  my  mind.  I  don't  believe 
I'll  go  to  college."  ' 

"  Not    go    to    college ! "    Patty    echoed 
blankly.     "Why  not?" 
341 


Just   Patty 

"  I  think  —  I  '11  get  married  instead." 
"Oh!"     Patty  laughed  softly.     "/  am 
Yoing  to  do  both !  " 


THE  END 


JACK    LONDON'S    NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list 

JOHN  BARLEYCORN.    Illustrated  by  H.  T.  Dunn. 

This  remarkable  book  is  a  record  of  the  author's  own  amazing 
experiences.  This  big,  brawny  world  rover,  who  has  been  ac- 
quainted with  alcohol  from  boyhood,  comes  out  boldly  against  John 
Barleycorn.  It  is  a  string  of  exciting  adventures,  yet  it  forcefully 
conveys  an  unforgetable  idea  and  makes  a  typical  Jack  London  book. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON.    Frontispiece  by  George  Harper. 

The  story  opens  in  the  city  slums  where  Billy  Roberts,  teamster 
and  ex-prize  fighter,  and  Saxon  Brown,  laundry  worker,  meet  and 
love  and  marry.  They  tramp  from  one  end  of  California  to  the 
other,  and  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon  find  the  farm  paradise  that  is 
to  be  their  salvation. 

BURNING  DAYLIGHT.    Four  illustrations. 

The  story  of  an  adventurer  who  went  to  Alaska  and  laid  the 
foundations  of  his  fortune  before  the  gold  hunters  arrived.  Bringing 
his  fortunes  to  the  States  he  is  cheated  out  of  it  by  a  crowd  of  money 
kings,  and  recovers  it  only  at  the  muzzle  of  his  gun.  He  then  starts 
out  as$a  merciless  exploiter  on  his  own  account.  Finally  he  takes  to 
drinking  and  becomes  a  picture  of  degeneration.  About  this  time 
he  falls  in  love  with  his  stenographer  and  wins  her  heart  but  not 
her  hand  and  then— but  read  the  story! 

A  SON  OF  THE  SUN.  Illustrated  by  A.  O.  Fischer  and  C.W.  Ashley. 

David  Grief  was  once  a  light-haired,  blue-eyed  youth  who  came 
from  England  to  the  South  Seas  in  search  of  adventure.  Tanned 
like  a  native  and  as  lithe  as  a  tiger,  he  became  a  real  son  of  the  sun. 
The  life  appealed  to  him  and  he  remained  and  became  very  wealthy. 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R/Goodwin  and 
Charles  Livingston  Bull.    Decorations  by  Charles  E.  Hooper. 
A  book  of  dog  adventures  as   exciting  as  any  man's  exploits 
could  be.    Here  is  excitement  to  stir  the  blood  and  here  is  pictur- 
esque color  to  transport  the  reader  to  primitive  scenes.  ~ 

THE  SEA  WOLF.    Illustrated  by  W.  J.  Aylward. 

Told  by  a  man  whom  Fate  suddenly  swings  from  his  fastidious 
life  into  the  power  of  the  brutal  captain  of  a  sealing  schooner.  A 
novel  of  adventure  warmed  by  a  beautiful  love  episode  that  every 
reader  will  hail  with  delight. 

WHITE  FANG.    Illustrated  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

"White  Fang"  is  part  dog,  part  wolf  and  all  brute,  living  in  the 
frozen  north ;  he  gradually  conies  under  the  spell  of  man's  com- 
panionship, and  surrenders  all  at  the  last  in  a  fight  with  a  bull  dog. 
Thereafter  he  is  man's  loving  slave. 

GROSSET   &    DUNLAP,  PUBLISHERS',    NEW   YORK 


ZANE  GREY'S  NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Srosset  &  Dunlap's  list 

THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

Colored  frontispiece  by  W.  Herbert  Dunton. 

Most  of  the  action  of  this  story  takes  place  near  the  turbulent 
Mexican  border  of  the  present  day.  A  New  York  society  girl  buys 
a  ranch  which  becomes  the  center  of  frontier  warfare.  Her  loyal 
cowboys  defend  her  property  from  bandits,  and  her  superintendent 
rescues  her  when  she  is  captured  by  them.  A  surprising  elimas 
brings  the  story  to  a  delightful  close. 

DESERT  GOLD 

Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

Another  fascinating  story  of  the  Mexican  border.  Two  men, 
lost  in  the  desert,  discover  gold  when,  overcome  by  weakness,  they 
can  go  no  farther.  The  rest  of  the  story  describes  the  recent  uprising 
along  the  border,  and  ends  with  the  finding  of  the  gold  which  the 
two  prospectors  had  willed  to  the  girl  who  is  the  story's  heroine, 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

A  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago  when 
Mormon  authority  ruled.  In  the  persecution  of  Jane  Withersteen,  a 
rich  ranch  owner,  we  are  permitted  to  see  the  methods  employed  by 
the  invisible  hand  of  the  Mormon  Church  to  break  her  will. 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 

Illustrated  with  photograph  reproductions. 

This  is  the  record  of  a  trip  which  the  author  took  with  Buffalo 
Jones,  known  as  the  preserver  of  the  American  bison,  across  the 
Arizona  desert  and  of  a  hunt  in  "that  wonderful  country  of  yellow 
crags,  deep  canons  and  giant  pines."  It  is  a  fascinating  story. 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

Jacket  in  color.     Frontispiece. 

This   big  human  drama  is  played  in  the  Painted  Desert.    A 
lovely  girl,  who  has  been  reared  among  Mormons,  learns  to  love  a 
1  young  New  Englander.    The  Mormon  religion,  however,  demands 
that  the  girl  shall  become  the  second  wife  of  one  of  the  Mormons- 
Well,  that's  the  problem  of  this  sensational,  big  selling  story. 
BETTY  ZANE 
Illustrated  by  Louis  F.  Grant. 

This  story  tells  of  the  bravery  and  heroism  of  Betty,  the  beauti- 
ful young  sister  of  old  Colonel  Zane,  one  of  the  bravest  pioneers. 
Life  along  the  frontier,  attacks  by  Indians,  Betty's  heroic  defense 
of  the  beleaguered  garrison  at  Wheeling,  the  burning  of  the  Fort, 
and  Betty's  final  race  for  lif e,make  up  this  never-to-be-forgotten  story. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,    PUBLISHERS,   NEW  YORK 


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